Melting Silver
by Alexa S. Blaze
Summary: Companion novella to Silver Smoke. Samantha Silverman, a former Avenger and now-ex-girlfriend of Steve Rogers, is moving to Rome to study archaeology. She's finally getting to live her dream, in what she believes to be the perfect city. But when she meets Daken — the rogue son of Wolverine — her dream turns into a nightmare. This is Sam's diary of Rome.
1. August

**Author's Note: Hello everyone, and welcome! This is Melting Silver, the companion novella to Silver Smoke. Basically, if you haven't read Silver Smoke, this won't make any sense. You can find it on my profile :3**

**To those of you who HAVE read Silver Smoke, then welcome back! This is Sam's diary of the time she spent in Rome. It's just a short story - only ten short chapters - but it's crucial to the Silver Smoke storyline. A lot of what happens here will become motives for things that the characters do in the future; it's a mandatory read. **

**As promised, Wolverine's son Daken will make an appearance (and Wolverine himself will have a cameo!). I like to include other Marvel characters, rather than just the Avengers. **

**Two notes: 1, I am fully aware than Roman universities probably don't follow the same timeline as American schools: they probably don't start in September. But I kept it this way in the story, to make things easier for me and less complicated for the readers. And 2, you might find Sam's language course a bit unbelievable - but there's a six-week Spanish course in my town where they teach you the full language, so I decided, why wouldn't they have an Italian one in Italy? They probably get a lot of foreign students. And if we can have a super soldier and a man who turns into an angry green rage monster - why can't we have this language course?!**

**So, without further delay, this is Sam's diary: Melting Silver! Please leave a review to either tell me what you think, or just to let me know you're reading this :)**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**

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**AUGUST**

August 1st

Dear Diary,

OH MY GOD THAT SOUNDS SO DORKY. I AM NEVER WRITING "DEAR DIARY" AGAIN. SCREW THAT, I'M NEVER WRITING IN THIS DIARY AGAIN.

August 13th

Okay so, damn it all to hell. I'll write in this diary.

I feel as if I should introduce myself. Do people introduce themselves to diaries? Do I have to keep calling this a diary? It makes me sound like a five-year-old. Anyway, uh, introduction. What am I even supposed to write? My name? Facts about me? A funny joke? This is stupid. Goodbye.

August 17th

I'm back again. This time, I'm going to stop over-thinking things and instead, I'm going to take the plunge and introduce myself like a total geek.

My name is Samantha Marie Silverman, but people call me Sam. I'm nineteen years old, currently living in Rome, Italy. I like cats, history, hot chocolate, when people braid my hair, and I have a secret obsession with heels. I'm a movie buff, a fan of classic rock music, and a huge Disney fan. Is that good enough?

August 18th

Let me explain.

I moved to Rome late July, last month, to study archaeology at a university. I'm staying on-campus, and I've got a roommate named Caterina.

She's a nice enough girl. Her English isn't very good. I don't think we'll be very good friends, but we'll be able to stand each other. Caterina is short and kind of chubby, and she wears clothing that is about two sizes too small. She's got a roman nose and dyed-black hair, and she smokes. That's what bugs me the most, I think — the fact that she smokes in our dorm room. I've tried to tell her to stop, but she pretends not to understand me. Eventually, I'll be able to tell her in Italian — I'm taking a one-month course that the university is offering, and basically I'll end up learning the entire language. It's crazy-intense and I've had no time for anything but studying.

Caterina was the one who suggested I write this damn diary. She writes in her own every night, and she's got a bookshelf full of her diaries. She's kept one for every year of her life since she was ten. It's not a half-bad idea, I guess. Since I just started my new life in Rome, it's the perfect time to start.

I still can't believe I've actually done it. I've actually left behind everything in the States — my mom and brother, my cat Trooper . . . my status as an Avenger.

Yeah, that's another important thing about me. I was an Avenger. Not a superhero; not really. Just an Avenger. I first reared my costumed face in the battle a few months ago, against Loki and the Chitauri. I was Masquerade (she was the heroine with the black bodysuit, purple boots and Venetian masquerade mask). I was also around when the Mandarin, some new villain who we only just encountered, kidnapped and executed a bunch of civilians.

I got quite beat-up in that battle. Broke two ribs and a leg; lost a tooth. Also badly damaged my head – I just took the bandage off a week ago, and there's a huge, puckered scar on my forehead, where my hairline starts. I still have the cast on from my broken leg, and my tooth's been replaced. The ribs are healing. But that battle left some emotional scars, and I think it's what pushed me over the edge and convinced me to leave my old life and move to Rome.

Tony Stark is the guy who financed my entire trip. You know: Iron Man.

I have a variety of relationships with my fellow Avengers. Tony — he's basically my father. Ever since my real dad screwed up my cells and gave me control over the four elements of earth, wind, fire and air, Tony's taken over the role of dad. He kinda sucks at it, but it's the thought that counts.

Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, he's one of my best friends. We used to both get up at four in the morning to have tea and a chat together, and then we'd go back to bed. He was like my personal Dr. Phil, and I miss him. I didn't really get to know Bruce (the Hulk), or one of the two new additions to the team, Hank Pym (who was Ant-Man) very well. His wife — Janet Van Dyne, the Wasp — had liked me, I guess. I wasn't such a big fan of her. She was too optimistic and talkative for my tastes. But we at least had a better relationship than the one I had with the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. We didn't get along very well at all, actually. Thor and I were buddies, in that he's-secretly-a-snuggle-bear-that-everyone-can't-help-loving sort of way.

And then there was Steve. Good ol' Captain America. We weren't just best friends — we had been going out. Boyfriend and girlfriend, if you will. I really, really liked Steve. I think I still do, actually. But I had to break up with him right before I moved to Rome.

So, yeah. That sucked.

I'm going to go try and call him now. I miss his voice.

I miss all of them.

August 20th

Steve's not picking up any of my calls.

Do you know how many bloody times I've tried to contact him? More than I care to count! And every time, he never picks up his phone. Or if I call Tony and tell him to put Steve on the line, Steve refuses to talk or listen to me. It's infuriating, and I don't understand why the hell he's doing it.

I've talked to everyone except Steve, which sucks, because Steve was the one person I _wanted_ to talk to. I've fallen in like with him (yes, fallen in "like"), and he won't talk to me. I feel like he's stomping all over my heart.

It's really freaking hot here in Rome. I think I'm going to die of the heat any day now. Caterina, who's actually from Florence, Italy, and I have explored all the major tourist attractions. My favorite was the Roman Forum, probably.

It's so weird, to have ruins that are thousands of years old right outside my door. Italians walk past them like it's no big deal, but to me, it's . . . well, it's phenomenal. Everything is so old and so full of history, it blows me away. And the beauty of it! The Romans made such wonderful things, all those years ago.

I still can't believe I'm actually going to get to study all these ruins — I'll get to learn their history in-depth. I'm taking an archaeology course, an architecture course and a Middle-Ages art history course, along with Latin. I'm so excited, I actually have trouble sleeping at night.

Or maybe that's just the heat and the smell of Caterina's cigarettes.

Anyway, my Italian language course is almost over. I can already have full conversations with Caterina, but Italians talk so fast that it'll take a while before I can understand them as easily as I can now speak the language. Caterina says I'm lucky that I can speak fluent English, though — apparently the popular job for students is to be a tour guide. I can lead tourists around and teach them about the city — and it'll help me with my classes, since I'll be reviewing the information I'm learning. It'll be everything from the Roman coliseum and Emperor Nero to Michelangelo.

Caterina also says that we might get to go on an archaeological dig if the class does well. They just discovered Nero's palace! God, I can't wait for the semester to start.

August 22nd

I met some more of my future classmates today; a few of them were Caterina's friends. They're all Italian except for one British girl, and a Canadian boy. They're both quite intimidating, because they've already been living in Rome for a full year. I think I'll fit in with the group, though. We're going to explore a nearby park today. So far, I've spent my entire month calling my family and Stark Tower, to check in with the people back home. I've also spent a lot of time unpacking, settling in, getting to know the campus, and hitting up all the big sights like the coliseum. Basically what I'm trying to say is, I haven't had much time to explore Rome itself, as a city.

It's time to stop calling the USA every day, I think. I need to slowly become less and less reliant on everyone back home. Obviously I'll keep in touch — by my new life is here.

Steve still won't talk to me or return my calls.

August 24th

Had my Italian language final exam today. God, it was hard. But I'll find out whether or not I passed by the end of the weekend.

And even if I didn't pass . . . I still learned a hell of a lot of Italian! I can have full conversations with not only Caterina, but basically any Roman I run into on the street. I'm really starting to get the hang of things.

August 25th

GUESS WHO DROPPED BY TODAY? Clint! Agent Barton, Hawkeye, Cupid on Steroids, whatever! He just showed up on my doorstep this morning. Said something about S.H.I.E.L.D sending him across the world for a mission — and that he decided to drop by.

We sat down for tea, and a long chat. God, it's so nice to talk to Clint. He's like a gay best friend, just . . . not gay. I just love the guy.

He told me that back at Stark Tower, the Winter Soldier was constantly trying to assassinate every Avenger he could set his eyes on. Tony had everyone on lockdown because of it. Of course this news worried me greatly, but Clint calmed me down. He said that I'm fine, too; I don't have to worry about the Soldier coming after me. Not only is my identity still a secret, but I'm on the other side of the world.

Besides, I quit my job as Masquerade. And when I asked Clint about Steve, he didn't say anything.

Clint's staying the night, and tomorrow I'm taking him sightseeing, before he has to leave in the evening. I think we'll hit up the Vatican City, actually, and the Sistine Chapel, along with Saint Peter's Basilica. I haven't visited those places before, and I'm sure Clint will visit again sometime soon — I can show him the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain then.

August 26th

Passed my language course! Thank God. It was more work than I care to admit.

August 27th

Yesterday with Clint was a lot of fun. I got to use my new Italian skills to impress the poor guy, who was confused as hell the entire day. But we saw the Pope! That was pretty damn cool. The Vatican was huge — I could visit there every day for years, and never be able to see everything. I'm going back with Caterina today, to explore more. And I think I might even visit tomorrow. I'm going to enjoy my freedom before classes start.

Ugh, school. It'll suck. But at least I'm studying what I want to, in a city that I love.

August 29th

I'm going with Caterina and a group of her friends for an overnight trip to Mount Vesuvius tomorrow. We'll leave early in the morning on the thirtieth, and return late on the thirty-first. I can't believe I've spent an entire month in Rome already. It feels as if I've been here forever, and at the same time, that it's only been a few days! And classes haven't even started yet!

Mount Vesuvius was the volcano that destroyed the city of Pompeii thousands of years ago. It's going to be mind-blowing. It's strange enough that I can take weekend trips like these to world-famous places. One day, I'll be visiting Florence, Verona, and even Venice! Italy has so many opportunities. In the States, you couldn't visit things like Vesuvius whenever you felt like it. It's a world-class volcano with rich, old history. America may be great, but . . . it doesn't compare.

August 31st

The trip was amazing. But I don't have the heart to write about it. Something else has been occupying my mind.

Steve still won't talk to me.

It's been a month . . . .


	2. September

**SEPTEMBER**

September 1st

Start of a new month! Can't believe I'm actually going through with this. It's going to be amazing.

I love the city. It's awfully crowded, sure, but everyone is so unique. You don't see people running around in yoga pants here, which is a nice change from America. People may not all dress high-fashion, but no one really dresses the same. It's like, over here, people don't conform to society. They don't wear what magazines tell them to. They wear whatever they want and whatever they're most comfortable in. It's really nice to see such variety, unlike places in the USA, where everyone spent so much time sweating over their appearances. Here, people may all look different, but at the same time they all look high-class. Now I've just got to find my own style.

School's starting in two days! I'm getting more and more nervous as time passes. Hopefully the class will be easy enough for me; hopefully I'll like what we're doing. I really want to get a good teacher and classmates. I already know I like Roman history and studying its effects on modern civilization, but what if the courses suck?

September 5th

The courses don't suck.

So far, it's actually been pretty damn fun. Obviously at this point, it's just introductory — but I can't wait for the good stuff! When we really go in-depth!

On another note, I've gotten hooked on Bruce Springsteen. He's a classic rock singer from the USA, but I'm seriously loving his music. It reminds me of home. BABY WE WERE BORN TO RUNNNNN-

Speaking of home, I called my mom and my brother Luke today. They were so excited to hear about everything over in Rome, even though they had both been to the city before. We went on a family vacation, back when my dad was still around.

Luke seemed kind of pissy at me, though. He's upset that I left, I think. We were actually really close siblings. First dad left, and now me, and even though poor Lukie is still telephoning both of us, he's finding it difficult to cope. I guess it's just the fact that I live so far away now, and that I'm not coming home.

Luke is also upset over the move. Mom bought an apartment in downtown Chicago and sold the house, since it's too big for just the two of them now. Luke's been taking it really badly. Seems like too many things are changing too quickly for him.

September 8th

I'm too tired to write in this diary today. I'm not even sure how I had enough effort to pull a pen out of a drawer in the first place. I'm lazy – deal with it. Expect a lot of entries like this.

September 10th

GUESS WHO I TALKED TO TODAY.

Not Steve.

That bastard still won't pick up the phone.

What the hell is going on with him?!

But I did talk to Thor. That was pretty fun. I mean, I talk to Tony every day and exchange emails with Clint, but I hardly ever get to speak with Thor. He's a cool guy, but I think he might be going through an identity crisis - he can't decide if he wants to be a badass obsessed with war and blood, or if he's perfectly happy kidnapping ducklings and babies.

(Seriously, he kidnapped a baby. Thor told me all about it, although he made it sound as if he wasn't doing something completely illegal. Apparently Tony flipped shit and kicked Thor out of the Tower for a few nights while they fixed the baby mess.)

Thor's a lot more blunt when I ask him about Steve than Tony are Clint are, though, and I appreciate it. While Tony avoids the question when I ask him why I can't talk to Steve, Thor just outright told me: "The good Captain of the Americas is distressed over your departure. He wishes not to speak with you, because he fears his emotions." Basically, Steve won't talk to me because I broke his heart.

Well, guess what? He's breaking mine by not talking to me!

Annnnnnnnnd now I sound like a creepy stalker girlfriend. No, wait. Even worse: a creepy stalker ex-girlfriend.

September 13th

I spoke to Thor again today, since he was the only one at the Tower when I called after class. This time, he wouldn't shut up about some woman named Jane Foster. His girlfriend, I think. And "The Lady Darcy", who I believe to be her sister. I can't tell - if you ask Thor a question, you never really get a straight answer.

Thor would not shut up about these two women, though. Apparently he's going to go visit them next week, or something.

Anyway, they sound like interesting people. I was all ready to hop on a plane and meet them myself - but then I remembered where I was.

I need to work harder on letting go of my American life. No more visiting old Avengers allies.

September 14th

Instead, I'm off to visit Caterina's family in Florence, Italy. We're leaving right after classes today to spend Saturday and Sunday at her family's place, and we'll come back late Monday. Yes, we'll miss a day of classes.

But apparently Caterina has an older brother.

(And I need to clear my head of Steve.)

September 18th

Well that was, uh, a whirlwind weekend.

Caterina's older brother (same age as Steve, actually) wasn't much to look at. Short, a bit on the chubby side. Big Roman nose. Only wore plaid shirts. But he fell practically head-over-heels in love with me as soon as I arrived at Caterina's family home.

I'll admit it: I used him.

I was not attracted to Benito (that was his name, although we called him Ben or Benny) whatsoever. Not on a physical level, and not on an emotional level. Let's face it: I was out of his league. And that's saying something, because I do not consider myself very pretty or very high up on the social scale.

Anyway, I totally used Benny. Not for things like "Oh Ben, I love that t-shirt but can't afford it, will you buy it for me?" or "Get me a drink, Ben dear?" I'm not that retarded. Nah, I used Benny to try and get over Steve. The first night, I cornered him and we made out. Granted, I was a little drunk. But Benny was smitten with me for the rest of the weekend.

I guess it did distract me from Steve, in a way. Playing hard-to-get with a boy who didn't stand a chance may have been mean — and made me a horrible person — but to tell you the truth, I'm feeling really emotionally low and unconfident right now. I feel so small in this huge, new city. I needed to feel a bit of power again.

Benny and I didn't go far. Nothing more than kissing (although once, he slipped his hand under my shirt and touched my boob, over my bra. Gross as fuck). I tried to pretend Benny was Steve.

It didn't work.

Benny was loud and sloppy and wet and fat and disgusting. He was tolerable, but . . .

He wasn't "genetically engineered perfection", as Tony once called Steve. He didn't have Steve's piercing blue eyes or golden blonde hair; didn't have his gorgeous jaw and handsome cheekbones. Benny wasn't pale and tall and heavily muscled in all the right places. He didn't have Steve's super-soldier physique, either. I mean, come on — I haven't even seen Steve shirtless, and I know he's perfect in every sense of the word.

Let's face the facts: no one can ever be as perfect as Steve. Steve _is_ perfection. That's what the super-soldier formula did to him. Made him flawless.

And I know I'm going to have to look past all the blunders guys make if I'm ever going to find a steady boyfriend again. Surely, not every man in Italy is a slob like Benny. But for now, it'll be awfully hard for me to ignore the flaws. Steve has set my standards awfully high. No one in the whole entire world is going to blush like Steve when they're embarrassed. They won't be as soft-spoken, and serious, and brave. I'll never find a guy who can converse with me as easily as dear old Captain America.

Jeez, I make it sound like I don't want to be here in Rome. As if leaving the USA was a mistake.

Maybe it was.

But I love this city, and I love my classes. Just because I lost Steve doesn't mean my life automatically sucks. It'll take me a while to accept the fact that Steve won't accept my calls — and that eventually, I'll need to let him go and stop calling in the first place.

But for now, I'm going to wallow in sorrow and self-pity and I'm going to keep complaining.

And no one can fucking stop me.

September 20th

Had to deal with Caterina's boyfriend today. He's kinda . . . psychotic. I don't trust him, and I swear to God that one day he'll end up beating her. He doesn't scare me; he's pathetic. But he's not good for Caterina in the least bit.

Apperently, it's typical for her to end up going out with the one guy in the whole city who'll treat her like shit.

September 23rd

FINALLY got my leg cast off today! I took the head bandages off a while ago, but this is the real deal. And I'm pretty sure my ribs are fully healed.

Going to go run around for the first time in months!

September 25th

Had an especially awkward phone call with Benny today. Basically, I had to tell him that just because we kissed a few times, doesn't mean we're a couple. Poor guy is heartbroken. Caterina seemed to find her brother's pain highly amusing. I feel bad for leading him on, but I'm obviously not over Steve yet. Benny was a rebound. And I know I was a bad person for playing him . . . but I'm allowed to be bad once in a while.

That was just another reason why I struggled so much as Masquerade.

Because sometimes, I really am the bad guy.

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**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading and all the great feedback on the last chapter :D I'm glad you guys are interested in seeing more!**

**I want to get this story over with pretty quickly, so I'm going to update once a day for ten days. Silver Smoke will continue, but the updates will be slower during this time. **

**Thanks to everyone who has alerted or added this to their favorites list, and an extra thanks to those wonderful reviewers: _roxxirox, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, Laurafxox, Lady Firewing, Hannajimashields, Comiccrazygothgirl, cucumbersrockmysocks, erica . phoenix 16_ and_ ClarinetGirl88_! Thank you all so much, and I'll respond to reviews as soon as I can :)**

**Thanks again, everyone, and please leave a review telling me what you thought of this quickie chapter. READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi**


	3. October

**OCTOBER**

October 2nd

I'm too tired to write anything todayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy-

October 3rd

Whoa okay, sorry for the laziness. School's getting intense. I just have so much work to do . . .

October 4th

CATERINA WON'T STOP SMOKING IN THE APARTMENT AND IT'S REALLY FUCKING PISSING ME OFF.

October 5th

I really suck at diary writing. I'm supposed to be writing an entry every day, explaining what I do with my life. Instead, I'm whining about homework and Steve (who still won't fucking talk to me). But to be honest, I don't have the heart to write an actual diary. I don't have the inspiration.

So basically, I'm going to keep doing it like this.

October 8th

WOW DRAMA.

So, Caterina's basically one of those girls who always accidentally gets into really bad relationships. And this time, it was pretty damn bad.

Her boyfriend, who she's been going out with since before I arrived, is, like, a psychopath. I met him briefly last month, and I could already tell he was pretty fucked up. And I'm not talking about the way he checks me — and every other girl within a 30-foot radius — out right in front of Caterina. I'm not talking about how he slapped my ass, either. No, I'm speaking of how he beat up Caterina on the 6th, and then showed up on our doorstep at three in the morning on the 7th. He wasn't just begging for her forgiveness — he was threatening her. He kept hitting the door, and I seriously thought it would break down.

Now, I can handle being kicked out of the apartment for a night while they have their freaky sex. But this guy — whose name I don't even know — was bad news, especially now that he was angry. Caterina was sitting by the door with a freaking steak knife in her hands, crying and whimpering and being a big fatass crossed with a coward.

Leave it to me to try and get her out of it.

I hid her in the bathroom, and then actually opened the front door to face the guy head-on. He was sure as hell surprised to see me standing there, rather than Caterina, but I wouldn't say he was disappointed. This guy was a sleazebag, and he practically raped me with his eyes.

"I'm looking to apologize to Caterina," he burped, drunk as piss. "I love her."

Let me tell you, it wasn't very convincing, considering he was staring at my chest the whole time.

"Sure you do, buddy. Now I'm going to ask you nicely," I had said, "to leave right now. And never, ever talk to Caterina again."

Then he said something really fast in Italian that I couldn't understand. Our whole conversation was in Italian, of course, so these are just rough translations.

"Leave us alone," I said again, pushing him — he had shoved his way into the doorway. The man obviously didn't like being pushed, because he punched me right on the jaw.

"What happened to that 'never hit a girl' rule?" I gasped, as my head was knocked into the doorframe, and the guy barged into our apartment. He started rooting through the apartment, looking for Caterina behind all the doors and curtains.

And then, well, okay. I had promised myself I would never use my powers, ever again. I was done with that part of my life. Not only did I not want to use my powers, but I was also planning on never using any of the fighting techniques Steve had taught me — all that hand-to-hand stuff.

I was done being a hero.

And yet, it was so hard to stand there and watch the man harass my roommate. I didn't even like Caterina all that much, and yet, I had been brave and opened the door for her without even thinking. Did that secretly make me a hero, somehow? Did I just not _realize _that I was good?

That was what I had tried to escape from, I knew. The hero-ing and the power-using and the things that required bravery. But if it came to me that easily, then maybe I had made a mistake in quitting. Maybe I could be a hero. Sure, I had made mistakes — but shouldn't they just inspire me to do better? Rather than give up, like I did? Giving up made me a coward. And I did not want to be known as a bleeding _coward_.

_Okay, Sam, stop._ Are you trying to convince yourself Rome was a bad idea? It wasn't! It was the best thing you've done for yourself in a while!

So why are things so difficult to do all of a sudden? Why have the days become so much harder to get through?

Anyway, the point is, I panicked and broke. I used wind to slam the guy into the wall, and then set his greasy hair on fire. He ran around the room like a headless chicken, and I corralled him out of the room again with wind.

He knew I was doing it somehow, so on his way out he took another shot at me. I dodged easily this time, responding with a punch to the stomach, a kick to the groin and then a hit across the face.

Finally, I headlocked him. "You ever gonna come back around here, buddy?" I asked, as the fire on his hair was extinguished.

The terrified man shook his head vigorously.

"You sure about that?" I asked, tightening my grip. He choked out a yes, and over the smell of burnt hair I now detected the odor of piss. The poor guy was so scared, he peed himself.

I let him go then, and he scurried out the door like a rodent. I slammed the door shut with wind, and then had the urge to collapse on the floor.

But I couldn't. Caterina was still cowering in the bathroom, and she needed help. I had to be the strong one now. Back in New York, I could've collapsed ten times over: Tony or Steve (or even Clint or Tasha) would've come along, helped me up, tended to my wounds and fixed whatever damage had been done to my location. I had help back there. Now, I was alone: and in the duo of Caterina and me, I was the one who was going to have to do all the mothering.

I quickly tidied the room — a few things had been knocked over during my struggle with the now ex-boyfriend. Grabbing a few ice packs, I stuck one on my jaw and kicked open the bathroom door. I explained to Caterina what had happened in a trembling voice, handing her the other ice packs, to replace the melted ones she already had. The boyfriend had beaten her up pretty badly, and she was already bruised and swelling.

"How do you manage to meet assholes like that?" I exclaimed, removing the steak knife from her grip and sitting on the bathroom floor with her.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the way I look — it attracts the wrong crowd. Or maybe it's the places and bars and clubs that I go to."

"Yeah, next time, you're bringing me so I can do a mental health test on whoever your man of choice is," I said dryly.

"Actually," Caterina replied sadly, "I kind of already have another guy lined up."

"Oh dear god."

"No, I think this one's different."

"You probably say that about all the guys."

She ignored me, wiping the tears off her face. "I met him at a bar and we almost hooked up. He gave me his number, and we're going to see each other in a week."

"What's his name?" I groaned, getting up from the floor. "Is he a psycho?"

"I don't know," she curled her lip, as I helped her to her feet. "Name's Daken. He's got a tattoo and a mohawk, but I think he's of a decent sort." I rolled my eyes. "He's half-Japanese and half-American."

"Oh, joy," I deadpanned, looking over Caterina's physical condition. She would not be going to class tomorrow, that was for sure. And the poor girl needed a break from the city — from her insane boyfriends.

"You wanna take a trip to Greece?" I asked, re-adjusting my ice pack. "Get away from the city, clear our heads?"

"Hell yes," she grinned, exposing yellowed teeth.

Annnnnnd so that's why we're currently on a plane, heading to Athens. We'll stay in a hostile and miss a few days of class, but we're good enough students. Well, I am. Caterina could probably be doing better — but she really does need the break.

(It's weird – being able to take a quickie trip to _Greece_, of all places. One of the most famous vacation countries in Europe, let alone the world)

Besides, we're going to tour all the old historical sites in Athens, and it'll probably help our Roman schooling. Let's face it — the Romans got a lot of their ideas from the Greeks.

October 10th

OH MY GOD THEY HAVE THE BEST SHAWARMA EVER IN ATHENS EXCEPT IT'S CALLED GYROS AND IT'S AMAZING AND I LOVE IT AND I THINK I WILL EAT IT FOR EVERY MEAL OF THE DAY AND I MUST MAKE TONY TRY THIS OH MY GOD IT'S BEAUTIFUL.

October 11th

Got back home early this morning — was able to attend classes again today.

It's weird to be calling Rome "home".

October 15th

I talked to Janet over the phone today. She kept going on about her new winter fashion line, but when she asked about my new life in Rome she did sound genuinely interested. When I told her about the state of my apartment though, she was disappointed. Starting talking about how she would design it, if she were here.

October 19th

Fucking Janet hopped on a fucking plane and is fucking redesigning my apartment.

At least Tony came along to visit.

For starters, Caterina and Janet could not possibly hate each other more. At least Caterina's got that new boyfriend of hers to keep her busy — Daken. I haven't met him yet, and quite frankly, I don't really want to.

But Jan's having fun. She's been to Rome countless times because of her job as a fashion designer, so now she's having fun redecorating the apartment. I specifically asked that she leave one wall blank so I could paint whatever I wanted on it myself, just like I told Steve.

When I asked Janet and Tony about him, they got kind of awkward. "He's doing fine, sweetie," Janet said. "A bit depressed, but fine. Kind of in a pissy mood all the time, too. But fine. And maybe a little reluctant to do anything active. But don't you worry! Steve's fine."

"You hurt him by leaving, I think," Tony's answer made more sense. "He won't talk to you because he'd rather sever all ties with you than continue talking, before having you slowly fade away."

"It's like a band-aid," Janet cut in. "He'd rather rip it off all at once and quickly, instead of slowing and agonizingly peeling it off the skin."

I rolled my eyes.

October 24th

Janet and Tony are leaving today. It's too bad — they've been a ton of fun. Sure, Jan's giving me a headache, but she means well. And Tony . . . well, he's like a dad to me. Although, we're so similar that we basically fight all the time. Caterina and Tony are getting along well though, which is nice.

School's getting steadily tougher, so maybe it's good that they're leaving. I need to concentrate on my work. Jan's heading to Paris to do more fashion stuff, and Tony's going on to England to do some Ultron research. I didn't bother asking — it's not my business anymore, and it's not my place to know what's going on in S.H.I.E.L.D and with the Avengers. Since I'm no longer an Avenger, I technically shouldn't even know of Ultron's existence. I'm just a civilian now. I'll be the one getting saved, rather than doing the saving.

Just like I wanted.

October 27th

I felt bad about taking all of Tony's money and not (yet) planning on paying him back — I can't get a job as a real archaeologist or art historian until I'm done all my years of schooling. _But_, I did go out and get a job for now! Like Caterina suggested — a tour guide! Now I can have some of my own money.

Sure, it's not peak tourist season, but there are still lots of people around, wanting to visit the Vatican, the Pantheon, all the churches, the forum and especially the coliseum. I was a shoe-in for a guide, because I speak fluent English — they'll be sending all the American tourists my way.

It helps me in my classes, as well, although it gives me less time to study. Since I very well can't walk around the forum reading out of a textbook, I've had to memorize all the facts of all the places I do tours for — and not just the facts. History and dates, too. So now I'm far ahead of my classmates, since I've got so much memorized.

October 31st

A new friend of mine is having a Halloween party in her dorm room tonight.

I'm not going.

Even though things are looking up for me, especially with my new job, I still feel so low. Something's missing, and I know what it is.

It's my family, and the Avengers.

I miss them all so much. And even though I try not to dwell on the "Did I make the right decision?" stuff, it's really hard. Life might be easier if Steve actually talked to me.

Instead, I'm stuck all by myself in Rome.

It really is the city of my dreams, and it's everything I've ever wished for.

But it still doesn't feel complete.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the support in reading this story, guys! Things are going to get a lot darker, I'm warning you. In the meantime, thank you so much to the wonderful reviewers: _Wolf Eared Girl, Selvet, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, cucumbersrockmysocks, A Contradiction, roxxirox, Comiccrazygothgirl_ and_ erica . phoenix 16_!**

**I don't own the Avengers or any of the Marvel characters - just my OCs (like Sam and Caterina) and the plot ideas. And please check out the website for pictures of Sam, Rome, Caterina etc. The URL - which you have to type into the address bar in order for it to work - is (remove the spaces) www . lexiblazefanfiction . webs . com. **

**Please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter guys! As always . . . READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi**


	4. November

**NOVEMBER**

November 1st

It's a new month! Time for new thoughts, new things. I kind of fell into a slump last month. It's time to turn things around again.

November 3rd

OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY STRAY CATS IN ROME BUT THEY'RE ALL SO BEAUTIFUL AND I JUST WANT TO HUG ALL OF THEM AND KISS THEM AND TAKE THEM HOME WITH ME BECAUSE THEY'RE SO PRETTY AND CUTE AND CUDDLY OH MY GOD THOR WOULD GO INSANE HERE

November 9th

Finally decided to do something with that big blank wall space Janet left me. You know, I actually like what she did with the apartment. She kind of went overboard on the fact that both Caterina and I are going to be archaeologists — antique furniture, rustic Indiana-Jones style trinkets and decorations lying around, an old faded and tan-colored world map pinned to the wall, a trunk rather than a bedside table. She even bought tacky plastic vines to hang on our headboards (Caterina ripped hers down immediately). Of course, we couldn't take out the furniture already in the room, which sucked — so now it's three times as crowded, since it's got the old furniture _and_ the Indiana Jones furniture in it.

Anyway, the wall. I went out and bought a bunch of cans of paint after classes today, and now they're all stacked up in the corner, waiting to be used.

I already opened the pink paint, and got a brush out. But then when I stood there looking at the huge blank wall space, I couldn't bring myself to paint anything. It feels like once I start, something insane's going to happen and the world's going to explore. As if I'm breaking some sort of law of the universe.

November 10th

Tried again to paint today.

Couldn't do it.

November 11th

It's Veterans Day today (or Remembrance Day, or Armistice Day – whatever you want to call it).

Steve's technically a veteran.

I could hardly think of anything but him. Just Steve the super soldier, and his time in the second World War, and his friend Bucky, and Peggy, and HYDRA and the Nazis and soldiers and sailors and air force pilots and marines and the army and war and terrorists and Ultron and the Winter Soldier and the Mandarin and my kidnapping in July and those seven people I killed in the earthquake and soldiers again and more war and more Steve and —

And I finally painted on the wall.

I painted Captain America's shield.

November 13th

It's like someone opened the floodgates.

Ever since I painted Cap's shield, I haven't been able to _stop_ painting. And it's not even like I'm doing real art! A flower here, a few splotches of color there, a badly-done person. And when I don't like something (which is basically everything except the shield), I paint over it.

I love this.

It lets me get out all my feelings and emotions. All my angst over Steve is basically in blue splashes of paint against the wall (at one point, I got so upset I just started throwing the paint). Red is my anger at everyone who pisses me off (basically, Caterina). Purple is whenever I question whether or not I made the right decision, in letting go of Masquerade. Green is all my doubts of whether or not Rome was a good idea.

I feel so much calmer now.

(But the wall's a mess.)

November 15th

Guess who came to visit?!

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow (and kind of my frenemy) herself!

She just unexpectedly showed up on my doorstep – like Clint did a while back – and announced that she was staying over for a bit. I think she's here on S.H.I.E.L.D business - she said she might not be around much - but it's nice to see her . . .

. . . Even though all she talks about is how depressed Steve is and why I should go back to the USA. Tasha just never knows when to let something go - even Caterina finds her annoying. Caterina, who hardly speaks English, and can barely understand a word of what Tasha's saying!

November 17th

Natasha was missing all day yesterday, but she's back now. I was right - her real reason for being here wasn't to see me (or harass me, for that matter), it was on S.H.I.E.L.D business. She says she's still going to stay for a few more days, though, just to be polite.

November 18th

I brought Tasha to the Vatican after class today. She said she loved it, but we fought the whole time. It wasn't like my playful, you're-annoying-because-you're-just-like-me fights with Tony. No, my fights with Nat are actually pretty serious. It was about everything - not just Steve (again), and how I should go back to NY. God, sometimes I don't even know why she hangs around me - we do _not_ get along.

November 19th

I love the city of Rome itself. Granted, there's a lot of graffiti around, but the city is just so unique. The streets - how do I explain them? They're never straight. They always curve all over the place, and they're all cobblestone. There's no sidewalk, and no line down the center of the road to separate the people who are coming and going. But the streets are always teeming with people of every shape, size, and color. It's beautiful.

And the piazzas! Or, er, I think it's "plaza" or "square" in English. There's a piazza everywhere you turn, typically with a fountain, an obelisk or a statue in the middle of it. You can't escape history here.

I love Piazza Navona the most, I think. It's huge, with three fountains – the center one has an obelisk sticking out of it. Within walking distance is the Trevi Fountain, my favorite place to go and think. Sure, it's incredibly busy with tourists there, but I love looking at the huge statue of Neptune that sits behind the fountain, and thinking. The fountain may look small in photos, but in reality, it's huge. I'm as tall as Neptune's thigh!

Nothing beats the buildings of Rome. They're narrow and flat and lean and towering and totally European, overlooking the busy cobblestone streets. I think it's faster to walk through Rome than drive. Most people here drive smart cars or motorcycles, and let me tell you, Italian drivers are insane. In America, you might possibly get arrested for driving like them.

Speaking of driving, Tasha came with me to buy a car today. Caterina and I are splitting the price: she visits her family in Florence so often that she's finally decided to buy a car. Even though I'm technically going to own half of it, I probably won't use it that much. I'm not aggressive enough to drive in Rome - unlike the Italians.

Tasha convinced us get a black smart car, and I must day, it looks quite . . . smart. Heh heh. Okay sorry, bad joke. But it's cute and it'll zip around fast. Nothing like my lovely and reliable silver Ford Focus, or the Bugatti Veyron that Tony wanted to buy me for Rome, but it'll be just fine.

November 20th

Tasha left today (after another long-ass lecture of why I should come back to NYC). I wish I could say I love her even though she's annoying, but . . . well, let's face it. I can't get along with everyone. Not everybody likes me, you know? Tasha's great, but we're not friends. We just _don't get along!_

November 23th

Decided to go out tonight, for three reasons. One, I want to see one of these "shady bars" Caterina always visits. Two, I want to meet Caterina's mysterious boyfriend - Daken. Three, I want to get wasted. I need to stop being so uptight. Between worrying about the Avengers, worrying about my family, worrying about school, worrying about Steve's lack of communication and worrying about my decision to move to Rome . . . I need a break. I need to escape my own mind.

November 25th

So.

Shit went down Friday night.

Where to start?

We got to the club ("we" being Caterina and I, along with another friend and her boyfriend). I started drinking right away - I seriously wasn't wasting any time. Since I was a legal adult, I could have as much alcohol as I wanted.

It was awesome.

I was already beyond buzzed by the time some guy started talking to me. He was as muscular as Steve - to the point that I actually called him Steve three whole times during our conversation. This guy was an incredible smooth-talker, and pretty good looking, too - in a rough, badass way. He had a pointed, half-Asian face, and a mane of long, curly black hair, cut into a Mohawk. Completely different from straight-laced Steve and my only other ex, a band geek from high school named Mark. The guy who sat in front of me at the bar, he seemed . . . dangerous.

And because it was the complete opposite of Steve, it was exactly what I needed.

I found myself falling for the guy at the bar, even though I still had feelings for Steve and I was drunk. But you know what? It's hard to keep feeling for Steve when he never answers my calls.

Ahem. Anyway.

His smooth talking led to more drinks, which led to dancing, which led to touching, which eventually led to a small, dark corner in the club. That, of course, led to kissing (or, as a tween gossip magazine would say, a "steamy make-out session").

I don't remember much - I was really, really drunk. But I do remember the guy's hands all over me; the urgency with which he kissed me. He was a damn good kisser, too. Nothing gross like sloppy Ben, but also nothing perfect and gentlemanly like Steve. Just . . . dangerous.

There's that word again.

He had me trapped - I was completely backed up into a corner, and his heavy body was pinning me into the wall. But somehow, I didn't mind. I didn't mind any of it, actually. Not his roughness; not the way he was touching me. It was pleasing me, too - which was freaking weird.

Maybe it was because I was drunk.

It's not like there could be any other reason . . . right?

Now, I don't remember this part, this is from witness accounts – he had me backed into the wall and was kissing my neck (apparently I was moaning, too, like some sort of animal - yeuch!) when Caterina and our two friends interrupted us.

Turns out, this guy was Caterina's boyfriend, Daken.

As the story goes, they saved my ass – separated me from Daken, who was "most likely about to rape you" (according to Caterina). It was a good thing we brought my friend's boyfriend – he played the tough guy, the protector. He separated me from Daken; told him "no", since I was in no condition to do so myself. They loaded me into the car then, and brought me home; I passed out in the backseat before we were even back at the apartment.

When I woke up in the morning (with a killer hangover and a huge hickey on my neck) and heard the story, I was surprised to find that Caterina isn't mad. The poor girl is so used to this sort of thing, she didn't think much of it.

"I told you he was different, but deep down, I knew that Daken was just like every other guy," she told me, sighing as I moaned into a pillow and begged her to kill me now – my head hurt as if my skull had repeatedly been bashed into a wall. "Besides, I met another cute guy at that bar!" she perked up; I groaned again, but this time it was because I knew we'd have to go through another psychotic boyfriend thing.

"You can keep Daken," she shrugged, putting on too much makeup. "He wasn't even a very good boyfriend."

It's Sunday now. My hangover's gone, and I'm finishing up some extra research before classes start again tomorrow. The thing is, though . . . I can't get Daken off my mind.

November 28th

It's not fair. I only met him once, and even then, all he did was smooth-talk me and then take advantage of me. All we did was make out! And I was drunk!

So why can't I forget about him?

It's not because I've fallen in like with him. I don't even know the guy. I just . . . I can't forget the way he made me feel. The weird, almost artificial lust and pleasure and enjoyment. It wasn't normal.

And I had sensed it on him – Daken was dangerous.

. . . So why was I planning on going back to that bar, just for the chance to see him again?

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update. Also, I'll respond to reviews as soon as I can. **

**There will be a delay in the posting of the next chapter of Silver Smoke, because I've decided to re-write it. It'll be up not tomorrow, but the next day - Wednesday. Hope that's alright with you all :)**

**Thanks to all my amazing readers, and especially the wonderfulreviewers! I've been getting great feedback, and I thank you all so much for that: Laurafxox, HannajimaShields, Selvet, Wolf Eared Girl, Ant-Carrying-A-Rubber-Tree, Comiccrazygothgirl, PJ-NCIS-TF-23 and erica . phoenix 16! Thank you all so very much for your kind words :D**

**Until tomorrow, lovlies - and I warn you, this story is about to get a lot darker. Anyway, please review to tell me what you think, and READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**P. S. Here's a question, and I'd absolutely love it if you told me in a review: what do you imagine Sam to look like? And by that I mean, are there any actresses you picture her as? I just had someone tell me they saw her as AnnaSophia Robb, so I was curious what you guys thought and who you imagined her to look like. Personally, I see her as Amber Heard - but let me know what you think in a review. Thanks so much, guys! :D**


	5. December

**DECEMBER**

December 1st

It's a Saturday night, and I'm going back to that bar. But, I'm taking Caterina and two guy friends along for protection.

I mean, it's not like I know I'll need it. He might not even be there.

But if he is . . .

I don't even know what the hell I'm doing. What the hell I'm looking for.

Actually, who am I kidding? I know what I'm looking for.

_A replacement for Steve_.

December 2nd

Guess what?

I found Daken.

I had actually been sitting at that bar counter for quite a while, seriously thinking it was all a waste of effort. Caterina and the boys were dancing, but I was off by myself, feeling rather lonely. The thought had just crossed my mind that I may as well give up my search and get drunk (I had only had one beer so far) when there was a rough, low voice behind me.

"Well, you look sexy."

I whipped around, completely caught off guard. And it wasn't by Daken's sudden appearance, either – it was by what he had called me.

_Steve_ would never call me sexy.

Daken stood beside my seat at the bar, all 5'9" of him towering over me. I noticed for the first time his piercing blue eyes, almost hidden by the harsh, cruel contours of his face.

"So, Sam, we meet again," he grinned in an almost sinister way. "Back for more?" He spoke to me in English, rather than Italian, so he probably knew I wasn't Roman. As if my blonde hair didn't already give it away.

"So you're the infamous Daken," I retorted. "I've heard lots about you from Caterina."

"All bad stuff, I hope," he slid into the seat beside me, and ordered a drink. "Can I get you anything, doll?"

I blanched for a second, but then shook my head. While he waited for his drink, Daken's eyes roamed over my body, from my exposed shoulders to my legs: I was wearing a short, strapless dress. Self-consciously, I tried to pull the fabric further over my legs. All of a sudden, I wasn't feeling so confident and sure of myself.

Daken noticed, and reached out a hand to stop me, I guess. He put his hand on mine, at least, and leaned in closer.

"I'm sorry we were interrupted so rudely last time," he said softly. "I don't know about you, but . . . I really felt something there, between us. I've been in Rome for quite a while now," the bartender slid the drink to Daken, but he ignored it, "but I've never met a girl quite like you. Never has anyone walked through the doors of this club looking so sexy."

I'll admit it, I was flattered. No matter how cheesy and stupid and absurd all of it was. And all of a sudden, a wave of calm and security rushed over me. I started to feel a bit of that excitement that had been present the first time we met. Was Daken possibly right? About some sort of spark?

"And why are you in Rome, Daken?" I asked, not taking my eyes off his face as he moved his hand from mine, to my thigh.

"I'm recovering from a . . . traumatic life experience," his expression darkened.

A small smile split my face. "You could practically say the same about me. Except, I'm not planning on ever leaving." Daken grinned, showing his teeth, and his hand moved to the inside of my thigh. I felt tingles shoot up and down my skin; enough to give me a stomach ache, but I didn't move or say anything.

"What's your last name, Sam?" Daken questioned, finally grabbing his drink with the hand that wasn't touching me and taking a long sip. "A beautiful girl like you has got to have a better name that just 'Sam.'"

"Samantha Silverman," I said plainly, unable to think straight with him so near.

There was one thought that featured prominently in my mind, though – something was wrong. Steve never made me feel like this, and I actually _liked_ Steve. Why was Daken so . . . _overpowering?_

He dragged me onto the dance floor, which wasn't the greatest. The only dancing I knew was the stuff Steve taught me – obviously not appropriate for here – and the typical high-school student dance, grinding.

Daken seemed fine with the latter.

In any other situation, I would've been uncomfortable with the way his hands were touching me. But Daken practically had a spell over me – I was powerless to stop him. And oddly enough, I liked it. I loved the full attention he was giving me.

I liked it so much that I even found the guts to say: "I want to see you again. After this."

He just chuckled. "I won't complain, baby. You're a blonde bombshell — there's no way I'll book someone else over you." There was a pause, and his hand brushed over my breast. "Let's test your Italian, Sam," he finally said. "Vorresti baciarmi?"

Even after 4 months of constantly speaking Italian, I had no idea what it meant. Probably some Italian pickup line, I guessed. ". . . Sì?" I said in response, a confused tone tinting my voice.

In response, he covered my mouth with his and kissed me.

Thinking back on what happened, I'm horrified at how I was feeling— but at the time, I could only concentrate on my excitement . . . and lust.

It's disturbing, actually. I think there was something else going on there; going on behind the scenes. Something . . . inhuman.

I watched Daken's corded arm muscles dance just underneath his layer of skin, and I was sickeningly reminded of Steve. All of a sudden, I felt like I was going to throw up; my body lurched in protest, but Daken took it as something else. I screwed my eyes shut as I waited until the sickness spell passed.

By the time it did, he was kissing my neck. "Oh, god," I let out involuntarily, bucking against him in a combination of protest and desire.

"Call me that again. I like the way it sounds," he said in a gruff voice, and I bit my lip.

"You think you can order me around?" I attempted to gain the upper hand, but failed miserably.

"I think you'll do anything for me once I'm through with you," I could hear another sinister smile in his voice. "Anything at all."

I shuddered in horror, my fingers scratching at his head harmlessly — if he had more hair than just the mohawk, I probably would've grabbed hold of it; entwined my fingers and tried to pull him away.

And then I was thinking of Steve again; of his blonde hair, and how he styled his hair in that dorky forties way that made him look so handsome. And his blue eyes — so serious, and unlike Daken's blue eyes, which were . . .

Dangerous.

I really did have to stop then. I couldn't handle this anymore. Sure, I still felt the same excitement, but thoughts of Steve were making me feel upset all over again. I had hoped that maybe I had gotten over Steve — but no. Not even close. Maybe if I had talked to him at all, I could have. But because we never spoke, I couldn't move past that part of my life. Moving on was too difficult when things felt so unfinished.

Suddenly, I realized what Steve must've been feeling after he woke up from cryogenic state - the angst of not having closure. It's so hard to move on when you can't talk things over.

I roughly pushed Daken away, and his eyes flashed angrily, but he said nothing. "I need to go," I said, speaking in a rush. "My friends will be waiting for me, and I think I ate something that doesn't agree with my stomach, and I have work tomorrow—"

I hurried away, not even looking back at him. He did call after me, though: "We'll finish this later, darling." I shuddered at the nickname.

And then I found Caterina and our guy friends and convinced them to leave and we went home and even though it was late I tried phoning Steve and _he wouldn't pick up and oh god I think I'm having a breakdown I think something's wrong with me dear god please someone help me-_

December 5th

Just spent the last two days in the apartment, somewhere in a state between depression and sickness. Caterina took care of me, thank god, but kept smoking in the bedroom. If I had any strength, I would've hit her.

Of course, I could always set her hair on fire. But I promised myself – no more powers.

December 7th

Well, I'm back on my feet now, and fully functioning. I don't know what I was thinking with Daken, but it was wrong. I'm done with him now – and Steve. I have finally, officially, completely given up on trying to contact him. Let's hope I don't relapse.

I did contact Tony and Clint, though. We had a long three-way chat, like middle school girls, gossiping over anything we could think of. They steered clear of Steve-related news for my sake, and we tried not to talk about what was going on with the Avengers. Also, Thor reportedly adopted my cat Trooper – the pet wasn't allowed in the apartment that my mom and Luke had bought a few months ago. They'd been able to sneak him in there up until now (their neighbors had told on them to the Board or apartment building owner or whatever), and so Thor adopted him before they could give him away.

Well, actually, it was Steve who adopted him. But it's Thor who's taking care of him, of course.

School's going well! We had a test, and I did pretty good. Got almost everything right. I'm good at memorizing, and that's basically all history is (well, until we get to the analyzing stuff, and the what's-the-effect-on-modern-civilisation stuff).

I'm "auditioning" for a dig! It would be my first one, and I'm super excited. My teacher's been invited to work on Nero's palace - they just uncovered it, near Circus Maximus - and he's taking three students to go along with him, for two weeks. We'd still be able to go to class, obviously – the palace site is quite close – but I'd have to take a break from work. I'm really enjoying work, actually. I get to see all my favorite ruins quite frequently.

I joined a ruin-preservation organisation yesterday, too. Life's getting busy! As much as I don't want to admit it, I think it's because it keeps me distracted . . . distracted from thinking about how much I miss the people back home. Ah, well. Anyway, the organization works to keep the ruins in good shape; to make sure they're not becoming any more, well, ruined. I'll be able to get even closer to the coliseum and the forum, in order to do my job on the commitee. We have to fend off vandals, too - I can't believe anyone would want to deface these precious sites and artifacts! This stuff is one of a kind and too old to ever be replicated. Dumbass teenagers should leave it alone.

Anyway, the teacher's taking the top three kids in the class on the dig, and he wants us to write a paper in order to decid who to take. I'm going to go work on said paper – I haven't wanted something as badly as the chance to go on this archaeological dig in a while. Wish me luck, of course!

December 10th

Daken called me today.

Bloody freaking Daken. The same one I had promised myself I would forget about.

And yet, he's roped me into going out with him tonight.

Just great.

(That's sarcasm)

December 11th

So I guess technically I went on a date with Daken yesterday, huh? And you know what?

I actually enjoyed it.

We didn't go to another creepy bar and basically make out the whole time. I mean, we did make out last night (for quite a while, actually), but we did other "date" stuff too. Like talking.

We actually went for a meal in the Hotel de Russie, and then took a stroll around some of the monuments. I would say I impressed him with all my knowledge but, well, I'm not sure he was entirely impressed! He doesn't seem to care for the stuff. And although I spent the entire evening with him, I actually know surprisingly little about the man. I did most of the talking – he could probably recount my entire life story, minus the Avengers and superpowers part. What bugs me most is that I don't know what he's doing here, in Rome – and I don't even know if he has a job.

What he does with his days is a mystery to me.

I wouldn't say he's a sweet guy. He's not particularily nice, either. In fact, he kind of scares me. But I greatly enjoyed his company – and we're planning on going out again in a few days.

It was hard to admit this to myself, but I think I'm only going out with him again because he's a rebound from Steve. Like Benny was, I guess. Not only is Daken a replacement, but he's the opposite of good, gentlemanly Captain America – and that's just what I need. I don't think I'd be able to hang around a guy who is even remotely similar to Steve.

December 12th

Someone got shot two blocks away from my place today, apperently over a drug deal.

And then Daken showed up at my apartment just ten minutes after it happened, to "hang out with you and Caterina".

I'm too scared to ask him about it, or say anything.

Caterina didn't notice my suspicion, though. She's cool with the fact that her ex-boyfriend is now all over me.

Whatever. She needs to get her act together - I don't want to deal with _another _psycho boyfriend. I've already got Daken on my hands, and I can't always be watching out for both of us - especially when it's at the same time.

December 14th

I suppose I should be writing more about what I'm learning in school, but honestly, it's not like anyone's going to want to read about the marble bust of Severus that I got to analyze, or the wooden door with the carving of Jesus on it, or the painting of the god Jupiter on a vase . . .

But I can tell you this: Rome is a living history museum. It really is the birthplace of modern civilization. And an advantage to being a tour guide is that I get exclusive, hands-on, backstage access to some of the old relics and sites.

In school, I'm studying what you think of when you think "Ancient Rome": gladiators and gods and Julius Caesar and emperors and wars. But in my mind, there's three types of history in Italy: there's that kind, there's the Catholc, religious kind that goes with Charlemagne and the Vatican, and there's the Renaissance kind. The Renaissance started in Italy, let's not forget, with people like Michelangelo. And his works and art are littered throughout the whole city. Everyone you turn, he's left his mark on something.

December 15th

Handed in my paper to audition for that dig at Nero's palace today! I'm feeling good about what I wrote. It was a research project on Emperor Nero, of course.

Going out with Daken tonight. Gonna call the Avengers and the family tomorrow; check up with them.

It's starting to feel a lot more like Christmas around here! There's a huge Christmas tree outside of Saint Peter's Basilica. I'm not particularily religious, but I think I'm going to go to Midnight Mass on Christmas morning, in the Vatican. Just for the experience.

December 16th

I called Tony today and has a great talk with him; just catching up on stuff. He's still, like, the best father ever. When I told him about Daken though, he got all quiet.

"I've heard that name somewhere before," Tony mused, and then he shouted for Natasha and Clint. Both agents said they recognized the name as well, but couldn't remember where it was from. Now, Nat's going to search him up in the S.H.I.E.L.D database.

"Is something wrong?" I had asked suspiciously, thinking of the weird drug dealer death and Daken's appearance right afterwards. But Tony wouldn't say anything; just that he'd get back to me if there was any information. I fear that something fishy's going on.

I tried calling my family, but they didn't pick up. I'll have to attempt again tomorrow.

December 23rd

So, uh, I reached my family on the 17th. I kind of got some bad news that put me off my game for a while – I actually stayed home from class one day, and it's the reason I haven't written in this diary for a while now. My younger brother Luke, who just turned sixteen, has been diagnosed with clinical depression. Plus, he's suicidal.

I should've seen this coming. Honestly, I — poor Lukie. He's my brother, and I love him so, so much. I don't want to ever lose him, and I can't imagine what kind of pain he might be going through. I never wanted him to go through it in the first place! Am I a terrible sister, for letting it get to this point?!

All I want is to return home and help out. My poor little brother . . . we may have our fights sometimes and tell each other that we hate one another, but I love him the most out of everything in the world. I remember back when we still went to the same high school, I would always threaten to hurt anyone who even looked at him the wrong way. If I could only protect one person, it would be Luke.

I know this seems random, too. Like "Hey Sam, you've only even mentioned him, like, once. And now you're claiming to die for him? What the hell?" I can see where you're coming from. But the thing is, I would never write any of that stuff — because I never knew it myself. You're not going to consistently talk about someone, until you almost lose them; until you realize how much they mean to you. It's like with Steve — I write about him so often because it's only now that I realize how important he was to me. How much I miss him.

Luke's a family member. He's always been around, and in my mind, he's always _going_ to be around. He's so close to me that I've hardly even registered his existence.

Here's a metaphor: I don't write about my left leg. I don't tell you how it's feeling, what it's been doing, how strong it is, how much I appreciate that I can run on it. I just don't think about those things.

But then, if it was chopped off or I lost it somehow, it would be all I talked about. How much I loved my left leg, and how much I missed it. It's a bit like when a close friend dies, and then suddenly _everyone_ was their best friend, even the people they never talked to. Luke was so close to me that I never thought about him and never bothered to mention him. And now . . .

Um. Anyway. The story goes that mom caught Luke in the kitchen, trying to overdose on pills. I don't know what kind, and quite frankly, I don't care. She rushed him to the hospital, and he was fine, but he's been diagnosed with clinical depression now. Mom's been told to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't try suicide again, and they've given him drugs to take every day, to help him get better.

Suicide. It's such an ugly word: so hard to write down on paper, and even harder to say out loud. If there's one word I could obliterate from the English language, it would be _that word_.

There aren't very many reasons for Luke's depression, but there are enough. It started with Dad, I suppose. Luke was super close to our father; he looked up to him. So when Dad went crazy and betrayed us by stabbing me with that needle and giving me superpowers, it killed Luke on the inside a little. Certainly didn't help that Mom and Dad divorced soon afterwards, and that there's a restraining order so that Dad can't see or talk to us.

Then there's me, times two. Firstly, my powers: apparently, Luke stressed himself sick over my new condition. That wss that basic feeling of sibling protection. He hated the fact that I was being put on the front lines as Masquerade, with these insane superpowers; that I was a freak because of them. He worried about me.

The other aspect was when I "abandoned" the family to move to Rome. Poor guy lost his dad, and now his sister. Plus, my move was voluntary. He feels like I'm trying to permanently leave him behind.

Mom said the move to the apartment contributed to his mental health, as well. The new place is small and cramped and he no longer has my cat Trooper with him - he misses his old, _real _home; the house he grew up in, and where all his happy memories are based. Luke lost his dad, his sister, and his house - all in one year.

There was one other reason for Luke's depression, too. Apparently he's getting bullied at school by his own so-called friends. This was the first that either Mom or I had heard of it, but the teachers already knew, apperently. They just didn't do anything about it.

Luke's now on his drugs, trying to get better over the Winter Break. God, I miss him so much, and I feel so bad. I haven't talked to him yet — but I hope he knows that I love him, even if I'm on the other side of the world.

December 24th

I know it's not Christmas Day yet, but I just got the best present ever! I'm going on that archaeological dig to Nero's palace! Caterina, Daken and I are going out tonight to celebrate (Caterina didn't get in, but she wasn't that excited in the first place, so I think she's okay with it). I'm not going to get drunk tonight, or even engage in any sort of sexual activity with Daken – we're going to the Midnight Mass (or Christmas Eve Mass, since it's at ten and ends at midnight) at the Vatican, which they're holding because it's Christmas _(obviously)._ I feel the need to be pure, if that makes any sense. I'm not going to be walking into the Catholic capital of the world after making out with Daken. Caterina's a devout Catholic; I'm just going for the experience. But Daken . . . well, he's coming, but he's not too happy about it.

Not that he's happy about anything, really.

And then tomorrow, on Christmas Day, I'm going to video-chat with my family, and then the Avengers. I'm actually quite looking forward to it!

Oh god – what if I end up talking to Steve?!

Okay, never mind. Now is not the time to start thinking like that again. I'm going to go have fun, and enjoy myself. It's Christmastime. Steve can just . . . piss off. He needs to stop invading my thoughts.

December 26th

Christmas Day was yesterday, and it was . . . well, it was fun.

I got home late with Caterina and Daken; the latter decided to sleep in my bed. I wasn't entirely comfortable with sharing a bed with him, but rather than sleeping on the couch, I spent the entire night awake: painting on my wall. I painted all the calm feelings the Mass had given me; all the raw emotion I felt because of Daken; my sorrow over Luke's depression. At five in the morning I got bored, and spent the rest of my time reading old, classic Christmas stories on the Internet.

Caterina kicked Daken out of the apartment when they both woke up, actually eight o'clock. Daken, of course, tried to make out with me as a "Christmas present", but I really wasn't in the mood. I was exhausted, and yet I couldn't sleep.

Caterina made breakfast. Surprisingly enough, she's an amazing cook. Then we opened gifts. Caterina had four times as many as me, but that was okay. I didn't get anything interesting — although the diamond necklace from Tony (or should I say Pepper, since it was most likely her who had picked it out?) was extremely nice.

Clint, of course, had bought me a lifetime's supply of tea and had it all shipped over from NYC, just in time for Christmas Day. Gotta love the guy.

After lunch, I set up the video chat on the laptop I had given myself for Christmas (don't judge!). At four o'clock that afternoon, I found myself staring at the inside of the living room in Stark Tower, with Bruce Banner's face peering back at me.

"Oh, uh, hello," he said in an anxious voice, obviously surprised to see me peering back at _him._ The video lagged a bit, but it was okay.

"Hey, Bruce," I smiled. "Merry Christmas! How are you? And how's everyone else? Has your day been going well?"

"Yes, yes, we're all great," he grimaced. "It's been a wonderful Christmas, sure."

"Who's at the Tower?"

"Everyone, Sam. Except you."

I frowned. "Bruce, I'm not an Avenger, I have no more right to be there than—"

"Yes, but you're still a part of the team," he sighed, twiddling with something in his hands. "You're an original Avenger. You should be here. Hank and Janet aren't — they're not founders, and they weren't invited. But Sam, you . . . I never really talked to you, but it feels incomplete."

"Sorry," I mumbled, lowering my gaze.

Tony interrupted then, and I proceeded to spend the next half an hour pouring my heart out to him about Luke. He seemed genuinely upset over the news, too.

"I'll hop on my private jet to Chicago and make sure he's okay. And I'll bring Steve, too," Tony announced loudly, oblivious to the way I flinched at Steve's name. "Surely it'll make him feel better to meet Iron Man and Captain America, of all people. I mean, I'd no longer be depressed if I met myself, too-"

"Tony, you don't have to, really, it's okay—"

"No, I'm going to, Sammy. He's your little brother, and since you're not there to comfort him, I'm the next best thing," he nodded enthusiastically. "Well, actually I'm better, but let's not get technical. Besides, you said he's an Iron Man fan, right? And he's sixteen. I'll buy him a car. Maybe take him for a ride in the suit or something. Don't worry, he'll be safe with me." Despite my protests, Tony insisted. He had made up his mind.

Clint came on the video chat next; we talked about tea and trivial things for a while. "By the way, I searched up that Daken guy. Couldn't find anything about him. It's as if he doesn't exist," Clint added at one point, but I quickly changed the subject.

I said a Merry Christmas and talked to all the other Avengers, too. Except Steve, of course. Apperently he was there, but never once did I even glimpse him.

I called Mom and Luke, and finally got to talk to my little brother. He seemed better, and we spoke for a while about what pushed him over the edge, and how I'm sorry my move to Rome caused his depression. I think we're all good now. He seemed pretty excited about the prospect of a visit from Tony Stark - and Captain America.

Caterina's gone off to Florence to visit her family for Christmas dinner. She invited me along, obviously knowing that I had no other family (or friends!) around here to go to, but I declined. So now, I'm spending my Christmas dinner all alone, eating Asian noodles and watching my favorite Christmas movies on my laptop. "It's a Wonderful Life" always brings me to tears.

Maybe it's because my life doesn't feel so wonderful right now.

December 28th

I MISS SNOW. It doesn't snow here in Rome - it did back in Chicago, and it did in New York City. I really miss the snow; December was always my favorite month, and it was mainly because of the weather.

Apparently they get snow here every few years, but this year, it's just cold and windy and rainy. Not a pleasant, hot-chocolate-my-cheeks-are-red kind of cold, either. It's the kind that cuts you to the bone, and I've taken to wearing a hat, gloves and coat even when I'm indoors. A lot of the ruins and churches don't have heating, obviously, because they're so old.

My scarf is usually covering my entire face, except for my eyes. Sometimes Caterina loses me in a crowd, even when I'm standing right beside her - she doesn't recognize me with all the winter gear on. Now, she's begun just searching for my blonde hair, since there aren't too many blondes around here, in Italy.

December 31st

Last day of the year! God, it's been an insane year for me. From meeting and joining the Avengers to fighting Loki and the Mandarin; from moving to Rome to issues with Steve and Luke, it's been unforgettable. Probably the most life-changing year I've ever experienced - even more so than when I got my powers. This is going to leave its mark on me forever.

I'm going to a New Year's party with Daken and Caterina tonight. God only knows what kind of shit's about to go down. All I can say is that for now, Rome is the right place for me — and these are the right people for me to start the rest of my life with.

Until next year!

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the late update; lost my wifi for a day there. And sorry this chapter was so long, but obviously a lot of stuff had to happen :3 Thanks to the wonderful reviewers: _GoForTehGig, erica . phoenix, Comiccrazygothgirl, Hannajimashields, Laurafxox, roxxirox, Selvet, Lady Firewing, Astrokinetic_ and_ Selvet_ :) extra thanks to those of you who answered my question! It was really cool to see what everyone thought :)**

**Until next time, everyone, and in the meantime, please review!**

**READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	6. January

**JANUARY**

January 1st

It's a new year! Time to get my life back on track, I think. Let's face it, I've been miserable.

Am I just telling myself I love Rome? Do I feel guilty that maybe I don't like it, even after I put up such a fuss and created so much drama to get here? No, I don't think so. I like the city. I just . . . I don't even know anymore.

January 12th

Sorry for the long pause between this entry, and the last. I've needed to take a short break from journal writing. It's just that recently, I've had a lot of trouble concentrating on stuff, and I've been losing weight, and my sleeps have progressively been getting worse. Dunno what it is. Maybe I'm sick.

I've been hanging out with Daken a lot more than Caterina recently. I feel guilty, but she's getting on my nerves. Well, Daken's nerves. He says she's annoying and too loud and that I deserve better friends. I don't even know anymore.

January 15th

Hoo boy. I did something really bad today. I smoked a cigarette. Me! Samantha Silverman! Smoking!

It was Daken who convinced me to do it, and I stole one of Caterina's cigarettes. I doubt she'll notice, but . . . I should've asked.

I'll never do it again, for the record. It was fucking _NASTY_.

January 17th

I did it again.

What is going on with me? What am I doing with my life?!

January 23rd

Okay, oh my god, a lot has happened since the last journal entry. Oh my god. You'll never believe me.

Actually yes you will, you're just a book.

WhY am I even writing this down? It's so . . . private. I don't even want to think about this again, let alone write it down. It can't be destroyed if I write the words. I mean, I could burn it - but other people can see it before I do. Writing is like admitting it happened, and I really don't want to do that. I'll be condemned.

Maybe I should just pretend it never happened.

No, wait, I can't do that. What if one day, I have to explain to someone why I'm so damaged? I'll just give them this, I suppose.

So. Rewind to Friday night, the 18th. I was out on a date with Daken - nothing abnormal about that. We weren't in a very nice part of town, though - Daken said he had to "drop something off" at a friend's place.

I remember standing in the street, shivering. It was a poor part of Rome; I hadn't really ventured into any places like it before.

"I don't like it here," I had said to Daken. I wore a low-cut shirt that night - bad idea, but Daken likes it when I wear that sort of stuff, so I do - and a skirt. I don't even _like_ skirts.

We stopped at a door with two men standing outside it, guarding it. "Now, you stay here," Daken growled in my ear, glaring at me threateningly. I nodded, kind of frightened.

The men - rough-looking guys, leather jackets, smoking cigarettes - nodded at Daken, and let him in the door. I didn't get to glimpse whatever was behind it, because they slammed it shut so quickly. Apparently this part of Rome was known for a violent criminal underworld, so I wasn't so sure I _wanted_ to know what Daken was getting involved in.

I stood there for, well, way too long, having to put up with the stares of the guards. _Pull yourself together, Sammy_, I told myself, but it was difficult - fear had already invaded my brain. _Come on, girl. You were Masquerade. You can take these guys down if worse comes to worse._

"You want a cigarette, beautiful?" one of the guards finally asked. Refusal didn't seem to be an option, judging by his harsh stare, so I nodded meekly and skittered forward to take it. I popped it in my mouth, and the man lit it for me, smirking. For a second there, I felt like the sexy, powerful wife of a crime boss.

But a moment later, I was back to being terrified, 18-year-old Samantha Silverman.

"What kinda business you got with that guy?" the man who offered me the cigarette asked, jerking his thumb towards the door and obviously talking about Daken.

"Um. He's my boyfriend."

He snorted. "Hear that, Roberto? Daken's got himself a pretty little girlfriend," he tilted his head to the side, examining me. The other man - Roberto - snickered.

"Yeah, and you lay one finger on me, he'll kick your ass," I said, sounding braver than I felt. If I didn't want to get stomped all over, I needed to show that I wouldn't be pushed around.

"How young are you, sweetie?" Roberto asked me in Italian, his voice deep.

"None of your business, you son of a bitch."

"You're feisty, huh?" the other one responded. "That's hot." I blew smoke into his face, kind of ticked off.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" he asked, ignoring the smoke. "Do I know you? 'Cause I wanna."

"Why is it that every sleaze-ball I meet seems to think I'm the kind of girl who'll go for him?" I narrowed my eyes. I don't think it was just that, though - it seemed to me that every man of his social standing, every criminal, thought they could always have their way with whatever girl they wanted. They had no respect for the female population.

"'Cause you dress trashy, darling."

I smacked him across the face with the back of my hand.

"So, you like it rough?"

"Watch your mouth, you greasy-"

"How much did Daken pay you for the night?"

I stepped back, astounded. "Excuse me?!"

He grinned, and I saw that he was missing a tooth. "Daken doesn't have girlfriends, baby. You think we'd fall for that? Anyway, how much'd he pay you? I'll top it, I got a wad of cash w' me ri-"

"You asshole!" I shouted, tears springing to my eyes. Is this what had happened to me? Had I fallen so low that scumbags were now mistaking _me_ for a prostitute?! Had I really gotten myself into this bad of a crowd; had my lack of self-preservation finally taken its toll? I mean, recently I had been feeling pretty worthless, but - but -

I smacked the man across the face again, and then elbowed him in nose. Blood spurted out, and he groaned; but before I could knee him in the gut, he caught me around the midsection and tackled me to the ground.

"You bitch-" he mumbled through the gushing blood through his nose, sitting on my chest. I screamed bloody murder as the man smacked me across the face, slamming my head down into the pavement. If there's one good thing about me, it's that I've got a set of lungs - and I really lit up that night with my shrieks.

He hit me across the face again, and this time, I couldn't hold back. I didn't want to, but I _had_ to use my powers to get out of this. I couldn't take the pain. Simultaneously, I lit his hair on fire and transformed into water, so that I melted away right underneath him. He jumped up, patting out his hair while I returned to my solid, human state.

Roberto struggled with his friend, trying to help him as I cradled my numb face in my hands. Kicking out, I managed to connect with my attacker's leg; he groaned, and I squealed as Roberto moved to subdue me. I thrashed around as he picked me up by the arms, dragging me to a standing position and trying to hold me still.

"You whore!" the other man screamed at me, wiping his bloody nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket. "You're a freak, a mutant, a demon in disguise-"

"Arghh!" I cried, biting Roberto on the wrist so that he'd let go of me. "I am _not_ a whore!" I shot my hands out at Roberto and the other man at the same time, slamming them both back into the brick building that bordered the street with wind, and pinning them there. Stepping up, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked my attacker straight in the face.

"What's your name?" I asked, scrunching up my nose.

"De-Deangelo."

"Let this be a lesson, huh? Don't go messing with girls in dark alleyways," I growled, kicking him in between the legs and then letting both men crumple to the ground.

I turned my back on them, aiming to walk right through the basement door and tell Daken we needed to go. But I hadn't counted on Deangelo getting up and rushing me from behind.

"Go back to hell, where you belong, Mutant!" he smacked me in the back of the head. I flipped into my back, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him down to me so I could bash our skulls together. Deangelo fumbled with something in his jacket pocket, and I realized almost too late that it was a gun.

I flipped us over with wind, using the air current to get his heavy body off mine. He lifted the gun to my head, and the safety catch clicked off - but I took a chance, and actually set his hand on fire.

I had never done that before. Always, I'd aimed for something close - I'd set a belt or shirt on fire, or the person's hair, possibly an object nearby them - but never their actual skin. Typically skin doesn't datch fire, but with my powers, it was all too easy. Deangelo roared in pain, and the gun clattered to the ground.

My only defense for what I did next - set his actual face on fire - was that my mind was numb. I couldn't think.

Couldn't feel.

His cries grew more and more anguished, and for a moment there, I saw everything clearly; I understood the monstrosity that I had become. Old Sam wouldn't even have been here, or attacked the guy in the first place, let alone set his face aflame. _Daken, _it must've been Daken's fault - being around him had made me more violent, more angry, and a lot more mean. But my internal tirade of horror ended when Deangelo wrapped his hands around my neck, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

I gasped, stumbling to the ground; Deangelo fell beside me, but kept his hands locked on my neck as his face melted; the smell of burning flesh filled my nose. My hands fumbled blindly for the gun, and came across it - I lifted it up to Deangelo's face and cocked it. He let go of me in surrender and patted his face out, smothering it with his leather jacket. There was still murder in his eye, though, as I kept the gun right in his face, my hands shaking.

"I'll shoot. You move one finger, and I'll shoot," my voice was surprisingly steady, which was the opposite of how I was feeling on the inside. "Roberto, that means you, too," I called over to the other guard, who was still sitting against the wall like a coward.

A long clap sounded behind me, and I jumped as someone began to applaud slowly. Horror shook my bones as I stared at Deangelo's ruined face. I had turned into a monster. The old Sam - the Sam I was without Daken - would never have gone that far.

"Shoot him, Samantha. The job's almost done," Daken's slow drawl rang through my ears, as he stopped clapping and came to walk in my line of vision.

"How long," my voice was low, deadly, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that you're not who you say you are."

My limbs shook, but I didn't take my eyes off Deangelo's scarred face.I _couldn't_.

"Kill him. You know you've got it in you somewhere. He's a bad man," Daken spoke as if discussing the weather. "A criminal, and a murderer. Part of Rome's underground," he acted as if it was no big deal. "The world will be better off without him, so just put him out of his misery."

I ground my teeth together. "I'm not a killer," I said, although I wasn't even sure about _that_ anymore. Everything I had ever believed about myself, I now questioned. But maybe I shouldn't have been asking who I was - I should've been asking who I had _become_.

"Well, if you won't," Daken sighed, "I guess I'll have to." There was a strange sound - a _snikt_, like the sound of a blade being unsheathed from its scabbard - and then Daken pulled something across Deangelo's throat, slitting it open and letting the lifeblood spill out.

I couldn't move - couldn't even put the gun down. At first, I had thought Daken had pulled out a knife. But now, as he walked leisurely over to Roberto, I saw that it wasn't quite that simple. He had CLAWS - sharp, glinting, long, deadly CLAWS - sticking out of his hands. One claw extended from the inside of each wrist, in the same location as my tattoo; another grew out from between the second and third knuckles; the last between his fourth and fifth knuckles. In total, there were three on each hand, every one looking as inhuman and deadly as the last.

"What about this man, Sam? Does he deserve to die? You wanna shoot this one?" he grabbed Roberto by the shirt collar and pulled him up.

"N-no, he didn't hurt m-me-" I stuttered out. Daken slit his throat with a claw anyway, ignoring my pleas to spare the man's life.

"Let's go, baby," he said, sheathing his claws - they disappeared into the once-again smooth skin of his hands right in front of my eyes.

"Who _are_ you?" I asked in horror, unmoving.

"I'm Daken."

"No, I mean . . . _really?"_

"Surely you understand me, Sam. I saw what you did - setting Deangelo on fire. You're a mutant. Like me."

I gaped at him. I mean, yes, I had heard of mutants - I knew all about the X-Men. But Daken, he was . . .

"You got any other powers I should know about?" he grabbed me roughly, pulling me to my feet.

"I, I . . . I'm not a mutant."

"Then what are you, an extremely talented pyromaniac? An Inhuman? An alien?"

"No, I'm . . . I'm just a freak," my shoulders sagged, and I leaned into him, feeling weak. "Take me home, Daken. Right now."

To my surprise, he did as I demanded. Not a single word was exchanged between us as we walked back to Daken's car, and he drove me back to the apartment.

Once inside, I collapsed on the floor. Caterina flipped out, of course; grabbed me a blanket and made me a cup of tea. She probably believed I had had a fight with Daken, and that was all. She couldn't smell the blood on me.

But I could. I could _see_ it. Whenever I looked at my hands. It was like a nightmare. Even worse - it was like that Shakespeare play. MacBeth. I almost went insane, trying to wash the blood off my hands - before I realized there was nothing there.

"T-t-t-telephone," was the only word I managed to stutter out to Caterina; with worried eyes, she fetched me my cell phone. I was a shaking mess, but at least I wasn't crying - not yet.

Thank God I had Tony's number on speed dial; I honestly don't think I would have been able to type it in. It rang three times, before THANK GOD he picked up the phone."Tony Stark here, you'd better be an important person because you interrupted my dinner," he grumbled by way of greeting.

"Tony," I sighed in relief; a cracked smile formed over my face as the word tumbled out. "Tony, I - something's just happened. I was out with Daken, and he's - he's a mutant, Tony, I think he's bad news, he has fucking CLAWS in his hands -"

"Oh, right, Sammy. I was supposed to phone you about that," Tony said distractedly. "Clint kept digging, and we finally found out about your boyfriend."

"He's not - I mean, not anymore, I just - I don't know -"

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"No," my voice cracked; I pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"Sammy? What happened?"

"What do you know about Daken?" I replied, my voice a whisper.

"He's - uh, well. He's a mutant, but not a good one. Daken's one of the bad guys, he's got three claws on each hand, a regenerative healing factor - you know, his body heals itself immediately if you hurt him." My breath shook. "Super speed, super strength, heightened senses - the usual," I imagined Tony shrugging. "He can also, uh, manipulate the emotions of those around him."

"Oh, my god," I trembled, sinking to sit against a wall. So _that_ was why I found it so difficult to forget about him. Why I always felt so good around him, and why my feelings had been so strong even from the beginning. He'd been playing me from the start. And that was why I'd always do anything he asked, which was completely unlike me in normal circumstances - he was practically controlling me. Playing with my emotions, like I was some sort of doll.

"Sam, you sound really distraught," Tony's voice crackled over the line, and you could tell he was taking this seriously, because he had calle me "Sam" and not "Sammy". "What happened? Do you need me to send someone down to the apartment?"

"Is there anything else you know about him?" I asked, my voice low.

"You know Wolverine? Logan Howlett - the most famous of the X-Men?"

"Yeah."

"Daken's his son."

I moaned, rolling over and pressing my forehead against the wall.

"You sound sick."

"I think I'm going to throw up," I admitted.

"What happened?"

"Something . . . bad."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Can I come out there and visit?"

"No."

"Is there at least anything I can do?"

"No."

"Are you gonna give me any answer other than no?"

"No."

"In which case, can I stay here and not do anything to help you?"

". . . Yes."

"Damn you." There was a long pause. "Listen, Sam, I'll respect your wishes of having me stay in NYC - but will you stay away from Daken? He's bad news. And remember, if you ever need me, I'll hop on the fastest jet I've got . . ."

"Can I talk to Steve?"

There. I dropped the bomb, and the reaction was absolutely dead silence.

I could go through months without talking to Steve. Fine. That was okay. But now, now I needed him. Just to hear his voice. Steve was my rock, and he wasn't doing a very good job of being solid. I still liked him; he was the reason I had even gotten into this messy, unhealthy, abusive relationship with Daken - because I needed Steve off my mind for once. He plagued my thoughts like a sickness, and now, I was at my lowest. I needed him more than ever. To talk to him, it felt like it would fix things.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? You're just setting yourself up for disappointment. You know he won't talk to you," I could hear the frown in Tony's voice.

"Please, Tony," I pleaded. "Get him on the phone. I need to talk to him, Tony, I do-"

"Gimme a sec," he sighed.

Tony must've forgotten to cover the mouthpiece, because I heard his entire conversation with Steve. And what a short one it was:

"Sam wants to talk to you."

"Tell her no."

"Steve, pull the stick out of your ass."

"I won't speak with her."

"She's having a serious crisis right now, and you're probably the only-"

"She made the choice to move to Rome. She can get new friends to whine to. I'm done." There was a rustling noise, and then silence.

Eventually, Tony clicked back on. "Sammy, he . . ."

"I know. I heard," I sniffled, wiping my nose; I hadn't realized that I had started crying. "I - I've got to go, Tony."

"No, wait, no, you've got to talk to me-"

I hung up on him.

That was it. That was the last straw. My breaking point. Steve had finally pounded in the last nail of my coffin. I was completely and utterly finished; over the line.

He pushed me too far.

So what am I going to do?

The answer to that is simple enough, of course. It's the same thing I've been doing for the last few months - distancing myself from the girl I used to be, when I was with Steve. Distancing myself from my memories of him. I'm not going to play the good girl anymore. I need something so unlike Steve that I can completely forget about him.  
Basically, I'm going to self-destruct. And of course, I can't do it alone.

Daken.

I'm ashamed of what happened later that night: the way I shoved Caterina away from me, grabbed a cigarette, and called Daken's cell phone. He arrived outside my apartment in minutes, picked me up in his car, and drove me back to his place. The whole ride was in silence: I didn't have to explain myself. He knew what I wanted.

We weren't even fully into his apartment, and I was already kissing him heavily. It was _ME_ who made the first move.

We didn't talk about what had happened earlier that night. He just led me straight to the bed, kicking various things out of our path as we went: a pizza box, a television remote, an old shirt. A machine gun.

And I didn't let him know, but after we were . . . done . . . I cried. I sobbed, actually, after he had fallen asleep. Silently, of course, but . . . I cried nonetheless. I couldn't believe myself - that I had gone this far, especially with _Daken,_ of all people. My body was sore now, but it was nothing compared to the mental state I was in. I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Steve pushed me too far . . . and this was my reaction.

I broke as easily as a China doll.

It's kind of ironic though, isn't it? Because I was the one to push _Steve_ too far, in the first place. He had just been returning the favor. The only person I had to blame was myself.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay so, um. You guys probably hate me right now :3 me and Sam and Daken. And you probably have every right to!**

**I didn't update this yesterday because instead, I updated Silver Smoke. So of you haven't seen the new chaprue yet, please check it out! Thanks to everyone for reviewing, and an extra thank-you to the wonderful reviewers: _Selvet, brandibuckeye, Laurafxox, Comccrazygothgirl, erica . phoenix 16, Wolf Eared Girl, roxxirox _and _GoForTehGig! _I cannot thank you all enough for your continued support C:**

**Until tomorrow, guys, and please leave a review - I'm sure you'll have a rant or two to share with me about this chapter ;) **

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**- Alexa**


	7. February

**FEBRUARY**

February 1st

I am self-diagnosing myself with insanity.

February 5th

Interesting chat with Daken today.

Yeah, I'm still hanging around him. Although we're certainly doing more than just "hanging around" now. It's funny - most girls probably would've run away after finding out someone was manipulating them, like Daken's been manipulating me. I didn't, though. I stuck around. And this is the second time I've woken up in his bed, feeling sore and almost beat-up and like the scum of the earth.

I don't deserve to live.

Anyway, Um. Conversation. I finally worked up enough nerve to ask him about himself, and to my surprise, he told me as we lay there in bed. I wouldn't say we were cuddling - Daken doesn't cuddle, not by far - and I wasn't even in his arms. He's kind of impersonal like that.

I traced my fingers up and down his tattoo while he told me his story. It's a big, black tattoo, curling over the entire left side of his torso - touching on his stomach and tracing down his arm and back. It's nothing but a thick, curly line, but it's a signature part of him.

Daken told me that his father, Wolverine - Logan Howlett - was married to a Japanese woman named Itsu. She was pregnant with their child when a man assassinated her, aiming for revenge on Logan, but someone came along and cut the baby out of her womb. Because of Daken's healing ability (that he got from Logan), he survived, miraculously.

Raised by foster parents, he grew to hate his father. His real name isn't even Daken, either - it's Akihiro. The other children called him Daken, which means 'Mongrel', because he was only half-Asian.

Anyway, he really has it out for his dad now. Wants to kill him - and a bunch of other people, too. Seriously, he's got a list in his head. That's why he's in Rome - trying to take out some of those people, work his way up the ladder until he has more power.  
Tony's right. Daken's a bad guy. If anything, I should be clapping him in handcuffs right now. But I'm not - I'm siding with him. I've completely gone to the other end of the spectrum, and I'm pretty damn far from being a "hero" now.

It wasn't nearly as hard as I would have thought, to turn to the bad side.

I don't know what Daken's planning for the long term, but for some reason, I think I'm a part of it. He thinks I'm a killer, somewhere deep down. Says we're not so different, him and I. All he knows about my powers is that I can control fire, and that's it. I'm not planning on telling him about my other elemental powers, either. He already thinks I'm powerful enough. And he's started dragging me along when he does his "errands". I don't know if it's for extra protection, but I doubt it. I think the secret motive is that he likes his image: the powerful young mutant man with the equally-as-powerful hot blonde chick on his arm. It makes him look like he's got the whole package, even if he doesn't. Makes him appear like some sort of criminal mastermind.

I wouldn't put it past him to make that a reality.

February 11th

Even through all this Daken mess - I'm still at school. My grades have been slipping, so I've needed to really concentrate this past week. And remember that archaeological dig at Nero's Palace that I'm supposed to go on? Well, it started today!

God, it was so much fun. Insanely so. I didn't find anything, of course - the chances of that are slim - but I got to actually work in a site like a real archaeologist. Digging around in the earth, looking for clues as to our history, over 2500 years old.  
_This_ is why I came to Rome. I could do this forever.

February 15th

Had a surprise phone call yesterday from Thor. God, his voice is so loud over the phone, it's not even funny. I wonder how he can even talk like that all the time - doesn't his throat hurt?

We didn't really talk about anything important. His told me stories of his lady-love, Jane Foster. I'd like to meet her someday, I think. Not that I'm allowed to think like that anymore - I've gotta let go of Thor, and the others, and their lifestyle.

It's funny - ever since talking to Thor yesterday, I've been in a really good mood. I don't know if it's because I haven't seen Daken since then, or if it's because I got to talk to one of my old Avenger friends. It might be a bit of both.

God, I miss the Avengers. They were like a family to me. No - they _were_ a family to me. A part of me, and I don't know how dormant that part is, longs to go back.

There. I finally admitted it.

Feburary 18th

Got another surprise phone call yesterday. This one wasn't so welcome.

It was my _dad_. The very same father who I haven't talked to for a little less than a full _year_. He's the one who went a bit insane and used me as a lab rat, thus giving me my powers. Just recently, he got a divorce from Mom, and a full restraining order was issued - the government found out what he did to me, but S.H.I.E.L.D interfered on my family's part and made sure he didn't go to jail. Dunno why - I kinda think he should. Sure, it was a "temporary moment of weakness and mental illness" when he injected me with that serum, but still . . .

It was the worst conversation I've ever had with anyone over the phone. Basically, he said, "I heard you've moved to Rome. Congrats. Where'd you get the money?"

"Tony Stark." I almost added, _he's a better dad than you ever were,_ but kept my mouth shut.

"You having fun?"

"Sure."

"You don't sound excited to hear from me."

"I'm not."

"Look, you know I'm sorry about the whole serum-powers mess-"

I hung up. He'd better not try and call back, or else I'll burn down the telephone lines.

Feburary 20th

Classes are going well again!

February 24nd

Okay, looking at that last entry, I have to laugh. I just fucked up my life again, and that now seems so . . . I don't know. Pointless.

So. May as well write this down, huh? Friday night, Daken and I went out to a party that one of his crime-buddies was hosting. Daken said he had something "special" for me there, and I was like okay, whatever. Why the hell not? What do I possibly have to lose?

I've already lost everything that means something to me.

Anyway, Daken. Me. Party filled with thugs. For the record, I finally found out what Daken's ultimate goal is: to become the new king of organized crime everywhere. Kind of an ambitious goal, but hey, he's scary enough to accomplish it. He's got the connections, and people know his name. You never know.

The surprise ended up sucking - it was a drug, called HEAT. Daken convinced me he'd taken it before, but I didn't know. I wasn't a drug kind of person, and I didn't know what this would do to me. But I had already tried smoking and - and that question came back to me. _What do I have to lose?_

I don't even fear death anymore. I almost welcome it (Caterina says this makes me suicidal).

I took the drug. It was just a little red capsule, and I was promised it would be fun. I'm the girlfriend of a guy who's pretty high up in the rankings - I get privileges, apparently, like taking special drugs. Daken's addicted to HEAT, I found out, not that he ever outright admitted it. His drug buddies are trying to make it into a liquid form; Daken was testing it out that way, but I just stuck with the capsules.

Turns out, the drug wasn't even fun at all. Yeah. Guess what I found out _after_ taking it? Daken only likes it because - get this - he thinks he's too good for anyone to ever beat him in a fight. He thinks he's smarter that everyone else. But HEAT, well, it "temporarily puts his mutant healing system on pause". Literally, it shuts down his powers. Daken's looking for a threat, and HEAT is dangerous, even to him. Nothing can harm him, so there's no challenges for him. HEAT is a challenge. It could very well kill him. And that makes it very attractive to Daken.

As I said, I didn't know this until _after_.

HEAT plays off your worst fears: it runs them through your mind; makes you see shadows in dark corners and monsters in empty streets. Daken later told me that his - what he experienced - was the fear that I was just as good as him, if not better. He finds that frightening and attractive, in his messed-up mind.

My fear had to do with Steve.

God, I haven't even said his name - aloud or in my head - since that night in January. I've barely thought about him. But he's still ripping a hole through my heart, ruining my moments. And so when I took that drug, it was Steve who appeared in front of me.

I mean, if it's powerful enough to be dangerous for Daken - imagine what it does to _me_.

I don't remember half of it - one of the side effects is memory loss and blackouts. But I know that - and this actually happened, too, this is a fact - while Daken and I were both tripping up a storm, we were attacked by some thugs that decided he was getting too close to the heart of their corporation.

All I saw at the time, though, was a helpless Steve being attacked. Over and over and over. Near death, too - that was my fear. Losing him past the point of no return. Although now that I'm not all trippy . . . I'm wondering if maybe this conscious suffering - the fact that he won't talk to be because he _chooses_ not to - is worse than the Steve-is-dead suffering.

I saved Steve, of course. I fought to the teeth for him. And I was so out of it, I killed two men. I don't care if they were bad guys, attempting to kill me right back. They were still hurting Steve, and I killed _two_. That brings me back a few steps in healing; trying to recover from my civilian-slaughter back with the Mandarin in July.

Sorry - they were hurting Daken. Not Steve. Steve was never there. And that hurts a lot more that it should. Do I really miss him so badly that I'd rather see him get beat up, than not see him at all?

Or am I just really messed up?

Thing is, it was Daken I saved. And now he actually _trusts_ me. His whole attitude's changed. He's no longer using me - he actually wants to be my friend. "No one's ever saved me before," he said in awe, once the drug wore off.

I'm not going to tell him that if I weren't drugged out of my mind during the attack, I would've left him alone and just saved my own ass. I'm not going to tell him that I thought he was Steve.

One thing's for certain: no matter how addictive that drug is, I'm never, _ever_ doing it again.

February 27th

I just realized that I forgot Valentine's Day. Even though I have a boyfriend and all.  
Recently, though, Daken's been all over me. He's changed, for sure. He's actually being _nice._ And I don't quite know how to take it.

February 28th

Daken can fuck off.

I miss Steve.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Thanks for reading! I don't own the Avengers or any Marvel characters - and I don't own the drug HEAT, either. That's actually from one of Daken's comic book arcs, so I thought it would fit in here alongside him.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reading, and an extra thanks to the amazing reviewers! Your words make me smile: Comiccrazygothgirl, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, erica . pheonix16, GoForTehGig, roxxirox and cucumbersrockursocks!**

**Until tomorrow, wonderful readers - Wolverine makes his cameo appearance next chapter :) so stick around and please leave a review, to tell me what you think! :D**

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	8. March

**MARCH**

March 3st

Things are getting progressively worse. I feel as of I'm choosing the path to selfishness and evil.

Isn't that what I wanted, though? To distance myself from what Steve is?

I guess, but I never thought it through. I may have snapped, but I'm not a bad person. I believe that now. I think that maybe I wasn't meant for this bad-guy stuff. I already decided I wasn't the hero . . . but the bad guy gig isn't working out so well either.

Daken came to me yesterday with a present. At first I panicked, thinking it was HEAT again. But instead, he pulled out a large box, postmarked Venice, Italy.

"Sam, I want you to be on my side in this street war," he said, giving my the box. I just stared at it dumbly, and so he unsheathed those terrifying claws of his and cut it open.

Inside was a mask. I couldn't believe it. Looking between him and the mask, though, I decided that maybe he _didn't_ know I was Masquerade - although it was certainly a big coincidence. "I saw that tattoo on your wrist," he told me, "and thought maybe a Venetian mask would be best."

I looked down the tattoo that had first inspired my superhero name - all it said, in cursive on the inside of my left wrist, was Masquerade.

Finally, I examined the mask. It was beautiful, sure, but not that kind of thing I'd pick out for myself. Unlike my purple, feathered Masquerade mask, this one was full - once on, it would extend from my hairline all the way to underneath my chin. Everything was covered except for the eyes. This thing was going to be uncomfortable to wear.

The top part of it was painted solid gold, but as you went lower down, the gold faded to white. The fully white part began just underneath the eyes. Gold swirls patterned the whole mask, and the gold lips tied everything together. It was ornate; fit for someone wealthy, who would put good use to it in a masquerade ball. That would not be me.

"Come on. Join up with me," Daken prodded, pushing the box closer to my chest. "In the Roman underground, we could be powerful. Terrifying. I already have a costume and a mask, from my time in the States. I'm Dark Wolverine. And your name, Sam, you can be Rampage."

He kissed me, then, and I stood there like a statue, completely numb. I mean, it was one thing for me to go hanging around the villains in Rome, but a whole different thing to _join_ them. I didn't want that. Did I?

Daken released me momentarily, letting me breathe. "Sam, I think I love you," he said in his grisly voice, and then kissed me again.

This time, I reacted. I stepped back, dread filling my gut as I looked at him through scared eyes. _Love_? Was this monster even capable of it?

I don't want Daken to love me. I don't even know why I'm still hanging around him. But I _do_ know that the feeling is not mutual. I don't love Daken in the slightest. If anything, I don't even like him anymore. Did I ever, really? I know I felt lust, but that's gone now, too.

And yet, he scares me too much for me to run away.

March 10th

I used to like the month of March. Not anymore though, I don't think.

I still can't sleep very well at night, and my eating problems have continued. I can never finish my plate. I've lost a lot of weight, and I haven't even been trying to. It's starting to look unhealthy. Concentrating is hard, too. On anything.

Last few nights, I've been out with Daken. Sorry - Dark Wolverine. I accepted his offer to be Rampage, believe it or not.

The costume isn't much - just a black bodysuit. But our reputation has already proceeded us, and if any scumbag criminals so much as see my mask, they run like hell. They know I'm an omen that Daken's coming.

Sometimes, I can pretend that I'm not helping get away with crime - I can pretend that instead, we're taking it down.

Sometimes.

So far he hasn't made me do much, thank God. I'm just the designated driver at the moment. I sit the car and wait for him to come out of whatever building he's in, whether he was doing some sort of deal with a "friend" as Daken or he was stealing something as Dark Wolverine. No matter who he is, though, he's always ripping people off, and I'm the getaway car.

March 12th

It's someone's birthday, somewhere. I kinda wish it was mine. I'm sick of being 18 - this year has been insane for me, and not in a good way. Sometimes I wonder if I'd be better off dead.

Something went sour in Daken's deal last night, and I had to go in to help out. Burned a guy's face off. Now people are _really_ scared of me.

I don't like the feeling.

March 15th

That archaeological dig at Nero's Palace finished today. It's too bad: it was one of the few things left nowadays that I enjoyed - it kept my head clear. Hopefully I'll get to go on another dig, but if I'm perfectly honest with you . . . I'm losing interest. And not just in archaeology - in everything. I don't even return Tony's calls anymore, and I don't have enough energy to feel guilty about it.

March 19th

I helped Daken with a weapons deal last night. Firstly, he tried to bribe the gun owner, but he wasn't having any of it. So Daken attacked, and I had to fend off the goons while they did their thing.

I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore. Not myself - I just don't care about myself. Not Daken - he can rot in hell. In the end, we took out the dealers and stole the guns. Daken said he wanted to "test them out" - by firing and killing all our opponents, of course. He tried to convince me to do it, but I refused. Then Daken went on about how he loves me again, and he was kissing me, and all I could think was _oh god not here not with all these dead people around_ but we did it anyway, he brought me into a back office and we did it on a desk anyway, and I'm disgusted with myself and I think maybe I should just die.

I got five missed calls from Tony today. Didn't return any of them.

My apathetic ways are starting to scare Caterina.

March 22nd

I swear to God, someone was following Daken and I on our date tonight. It was a normal date - we hadn't had one of those in a while - but someone was following us. I didn't tell Daken.

March 23rd

The cops are on to us - they put out posters for our costumed faces. Rampage is apparently highly dangerous, violent, mentally unstable and if seen, DO NOT APPROACH.

At least they got the mental part right.

March 24th

Someone was following us again. I'm not even kidding. It's seriously freaking me out.

March 31st

Found out the identity of my mystery stalker half a week ago, on the twenty-seventh. It was Wolverine.

_The_ Wolverine. Logan Howlett. Part of the X-Men.

Even worse, Daken's father.

We were standing on the side of the road, dressed as Dark Wolverine and Rampage. Daken paced back and forth: he was waiting to meet some big crime boss, and he was anxious. I later realized it was set up by Logan - there was no "crime boss".

Wolverine dropped out of nowhere, seemingly from the sky - but then there he was, standing between me and Daken, his back to me. "Stay behind me," he growled, as Daken whipped around and unsheathed his claws. Logan did the same.

"Son," Logan nodded gruffly, by way of greeting.

I mentioned that Daken hates his father, right? Wants to kill him?

"I see you're tarnishing the name of Wolverine, by pretending to be 'Dark' Wolverine," Logan spat, crouching in a position ready for attack - ready to spring forward.

"It's not like you kept it very clean in the first place," Daken replied, narrowing his eyes.

"Doesn't matter. I chose the path for good, Son. You obviously haven't," he frowned. Wolverine wasn't dressed like a superhero - he was wearing jeans and an old plaid shirt. His handsome but rugged and old face wasn't hidden by a mask, and he had a beard of mutton chops growing heavily, making him look like a lumberjack. "And it seems to me you're bringing others down with you."

I stepped back from him, away from the father and son. "You leave her out of this," Daken growled, his eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder to me.

"Are you in love?" Logan began howling with laughter.

"So what if I am? She saved my life. No one's ever cared about me enough to do that," Daken growled defensively.

"And does she return those feelings?" Logan questioned, now perfectly serious again.

Daken was quiet.

"Samantha, do you return those feelings?" Logan looked over his shoulder at me.

I took another step back, pulling off Rampage's mask (I was _never_ going to call it _my_ mask). "How the hell do you know my name?"

"What, you think I really came here because Daken was ruining the good name of Wolverine?" he snorted.

"You came because of _her_?!" Daken was outraged.

"Sorry, sweetie." I couldn't tell if Logan was talking to me or his son.

Daken threw himself at Logan then, trying to swipe across his face. But Wolverine was faster and more experienced. He wasn't as arrogant as his son; didn't act like he was the best. And it made him a better fighter. Daken aimed to kill his father, but Logan only wanted to subdue his son.

They were quite the match, though. Blood was spilled on both sides as the two men held nothing back, beating into each other. I even heard a few bones snap, too - but it didn't matter, because of the regenerative healing factor they both possessed.

I was in the way, and I was just going to get hurt if all I did was stand and watch. But I wasn't about to lift a finger against either of them. Daken - well, how could I turn on him now? And Logan . . . I'd never met him, but he was a fellow superhero. I could deal with bad guys. But attacking another hero was too far for me to even _consider_. No matter how badly anyone ever broke me, I would never hurt a hero.

And I wanted to know why the hell he was there for _me_.

I turned and fled, running through the streets of Rome - the city I thought I loved - back to my apartment. I hadn't even realized that the whole time, I had Rampage's mask in my hand, and I was slowly mangling the paper mâché mask as I squeezed my fist around the side.

Back at the apartment, I banged on the door. "Let me in, Caterina," I cried, exhaustion giving me a headache. "Right now, or so help me I will tear you limb from limb and-"

"Well, that seems a little harsh, doesn't it?"

The figure that opened the door wasn't Caterina: it was Clint Barton, my old best friend.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, trying to calm down as my chest heaved with every laboured breath I took.

He took one look at the mask in my hand and paled. "Oh, God. Tony, it's worse than we thought," he shouted back into the room, and then pulled me in roughly, slamming the door behind us.

I stumbled into the centre of the apartment and found myself face-to-face with Caterina and Tony Stark. Clint ripped the mask from my hands and flashed it to Tony, whose eyes widened.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, anger flaring up. Of all the emotions - why did it have to be anger?!

"Sammy, this is an intervention," Tony tried to say soothingly.

"Excuse me?"

"An intervention. If you were doing drugs, we'd cut off your supply. If you thought no one loved you, we'd be here to tell you we care about you. But we're _actually_ here to stop you from, well . . ." He looked at the mask, taking it into his hands.

"It's my choice, you can't stop me," I yelled, feeling pressured - even though on the inside, I wanted nothing more than to stop.

"Sam," Clint placed a hand on my shoulder, "We know you're upset, but please, just sit down -"

"No, just piss off, all of you," I stomped my foot. Caterina started crying. "I'm doing - I'm doing p-perfectly fine on my own -"

"No you're not, Sammy," Tony chuckled as if it was all a big joke, "You've made a mess of the opportunity I gave you by letting you move here-"

I punched him across the face.

Now, of course, I mean . . . words don't describe how horrified I am that I actually did that. I broke Tony's nose, for God's sake. If I had been in my right mind, I would never have done that. There's no excuse - my anger, and sudden world of conflicting emotions is no reason to smack him. I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . But my words probably seem empty. It doesn't mean I didn't do it. It happened, and I have to deal with it.

You're one of the three people - only three, Tony - in this world that I thought I could never hurt. But the fact of the matter is, you were the _last_ one I hurt. Steve is one of those people: he had everything he finally wanted, and I took it away from him. He'd already lost so much, and I made him lose more. The other person is my little brother, Luke, but I hurt him by moving to Rome, didn't I? The three people I cared about most, all suffering because of me.

Surely the suffering _I_ was feeling was punishment enough - the pain was almost physical. It was invading everything I did. The knowledge that I had hurt everyone I had wanted to protect . . .

Tony fell to the ground, bellowing in pain as Caterina screamed. Clint, of course, burst into immediate action - he grabbed my hands and held them together behind my back, then threw me down on the bed, using his own body weight to keep me pinned there. I struggled, but it was only half-heartedly.

"What's wrong with you, Samantha?" Clint's voice was disgusted.

There was a banging on the door. "Get it, Caterina," Clint said, but she shook her head in terror as the banging continued.

"What if it's Daken?" her voice trembled.

Tony was too busy yelling about his nose to even hear the banging - so Clint had to let me go to get the door himself. He gave me a look, getting up slowly and looking through the peephole in the door. I stayed perfectly still on the bed, watching apprehensively.

Clint sighed, and unlocked the door. Logan Howlett came bursting in, blood flecking his face and shirt as he surveyed the room.

He took a look at Tony, lying on the floor. "Samantha punch him?" Logan asked gruffly.

"Yep," Clint responded.

"I'll hold her," the bigger man sighed, grabbing me roughly and keeping a vice-like grip on my arms, his claws out. I knew why: they were a reminder that he could - and would - cut me into shreds if I made a wrong move.

"What happened to Daken?" I said in a deadbeat voice, my chin tilted up and away from the claws at my throat.

"He'll be knocked out for a while, sweetie. I took care of him - don't worry." I gulped.

Clint ran to help Tony, and they get his nose re-set, although a doctor would still need to look at it. Now, my two ex-allies sat on Caterina's bed, facing me and staring hard.

"Sammy, dis id an interbention," Tony tried again. "You dibin't answer de telephone when I cawled you," he said, but then gave up on speaking.

Clint spoke up. "We thought something was wrong - you wouldn't answer Tony's calls, and we knew you were out with Daken. He's incredibly dangerous, and we didn't want you with him. He's a terrorist. And we didn't want you to get hurt."

"Too late for that," I grumbled darkly.

"Something happened after Steve refused to talk to you," Clint said, and it was a statement instead of a question. I found my eyes start to water. "And you wouldn't pick up your phone, so we called Caterina. She told us everything that was going on," he nodded sternly. "Except . . . she didn't know about that," he pointed at the Rampage mask.

"Sam, Rampage ib a superbillian dat ib alweady on S.H.I.E.L.D's rabar," Tony wiped some of the blood away from his nose. "You're a cwiminal. Why dibin't you come to de Abengers for help? If we knew you were in twouble . . . You're not a bad pwerson, Sammy, so whad's going on?"

"Daken probably influenced her into joining forces with him," Logan interrupted. "My son was in love with her - he wanted her as a partner. Wanted her to approve of what he was doing."

Clint and Tony's eyes were wide as saucers. "Dib you lub him back?" Tony finally asked.

There was a short pause, and I shook my head. Clint and Tony simultaneously sighed in relief.

"Caterina thinks there's something wrong with you," Clint went on. "She believes your mind is ailing, or something. Sam - have you been having sleeping troubles or eating problems recently?" he asked, sounding like a doctor.

I stayed silent.

His shoulders sagged. "We're here to help you, Sam. Even I can tell something's wrong. You need help, we - we want you to get better-"

I started to cry, then.

"Can't you cooperate with us, Sam? We're still the same Hawkeye and Iron Man," he said gently.

Still, I didn't say anything.

Logan sighed, and I could feel his body move beside mine. "She has depression, Barton. Circles under the eyes indicate lack of sleep. Ribs showing through," he lifted up the bottom of my shirt a bit to show the others, "mean she hasn't been eating well. Caterina says she's been apathetic, and the drops of her marks in school prove not only that, but also that she's having trouble concentrating. Plus, it shows she's losing interest in the things she does." He frowned. "And if you read that little diary over there, like I did when we first arrived - before I left to find her and Daken - you'll see that she's been feeling worthless and having a lot of thoughts about death," he pointed to my diary - this little book, the same one I'm writing in now - which was sitting on my bedside table. "The last thing is that Caterina says she's been crying a lot more than normal women. That's an indicator of depression, as well." It probably helped his case that I was crying right then.

"You noticed all dat?" said Tony, astonished.

"Barton did, too. He was just trying to get Samantha to admit it for herself," Logan shrugged. "We're observant. Simple as that."

I started to cry harder. Depression? Really? Was that why I had been taking all these risks; giving up on life itself? It made sense. But . . . no. Luke had depression. Not me. We couldn't _both_ have it. It didn't work that way.

"How did you even end up here?" I grumbled resentfully, my question aimed at Logan. It was Clint who answered, though.

"Well, we knew something was wrong. Tony suggested an intervention - to try and get you back on the right track. Basically, we hopped on an airplane and flew our asses over here. And we brought Logan because, well . . . quite frankly, neither Tony nor I know how to deal with Daken. Logan does, obviously. And he owed Tony a favor, so we called it in."

I curled up into a ball, and Logan slowly let go of me - but he kept his claws out. Caterina sat in the corner, watching the whole thing in terrified silence. She must've been confused as hell - she had trouble understanding English (and thus, probably had no clue what was going on), a psychotic roommate, and three muscular men, all crowded into her apartment at one in the morning. Yeah, definitely not normal. Poor girl. If I wasn't too busy feeling sorry for myself, I'd feel bad for her, too.

"Sam, we care for you, and we just want you to get better," Clint started, and then we got into all the cheesy stuff that I won't bother re-writing. But it ended with a sort of twist, I guess: Clint asked me what it was I wanted.

"Steve," I sobbed brokenly, without even a moment's pause. "I just want Steve," I blubbered, and then threw myself across the room, into Clint's arms. Maybe if he had answered my calls, I wouldn't have felt such a longing for him. I wouldn't have been so hung-up on the past. But the fact of the matter was that he never spoke to me, so I couldn't get over him.

"Oh, Sam," Clint soothed, curling me into his chest - just like Steve used to do. He rubbed my back as I sobbed into his t-shirt, finally letting it all out - no more holding back tears, no more trying to cry quietly after sex with Daken, no more stifling and muffling the pain, no more pushing down emotions and trying not to scare Caterina. I let it all out, snot and tears and emotion and all, on Clint's shoulder. But it was still no substitute for Steve.

I pulled Tony into the embrace, too, feeling the need for him as well. Tony wasn't the kind of guy to try and comfort a girl, but he did his best, patting my head awkwardly and hugging me like Clint. In between sobs and moans about Steve, I managed to get in a few sorrys regarding his nose, until he shushed me.

Tony was one of those three important people to me, and he was as good a substitute as I was going to get for Steve.

Logan disappeared at some point, and Caterina left to spend the night at a friend's. I don't even know when they departed, but I was so out of it, I didn't care.

It took a long time to calm down, and once I did, Tony and Clint loaded me into a car and drove to the hospital. I hiccuped the entire way, furiously trying to wipe the tears off my face.

I spent over 24 hours in the hospital, being treated for malnutrition and a few of the scrapes and bruises I had sustained on my excursions with Daken. They got Tony's nose fixed up right away, and then officially diagnosed me with clinical depression. I'm on drugs now - just like Luke. I don't think I'll tell him what's happened to me, though, or else he'll freak, and possibly relapse.

Tony and Clint left a few days afterwards, but made me promise not to see Daken. They're also forcing Caterina to keep an eye on me. Tony took the Rampage mask - he doesn't want me getting any ideas.

But I'm going to have to face Daken sooner or later.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'M NOT DEAD.**

**Hi, guys. I'm so sorry that this chapter has popped up so late. Please forgive me - things'll start getting back on track soon enough, I hope. Unfortunately, I can't respond to reviews for the time being. Bear with me here - I really do appreciate all the amazing feedback, and I can't thank you all enough :) But as always, thanks to those who did review: _AdelphiBahana, clarinetgirl628, Selvet, WhatTheF-HaveUDoneLately-Cross, cucumbersrockursocks, Laurafxox, brandibuckeye, Wolf Eared Girl, Comiccrazygothgirl, 16, GoForTehGig, and roxxirox_! You guys have made my life with all your kind words :) Thank you for being so loyal, even when I'm not around!**

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**- Lexi**


	9. April

**APRIL**

April 12th

I looked over the first five months of journal entries today. It astonishes me - how happy and excited I was. In the wake of everything, it seems like a silly girl's idea of make-believe. As if I was never that girl in those first few months of moving to Rome.  
I wish I could go back to being so carefree. But not yet. In the long run, maybe I'll be able to, but for now, I'm stuck.

Tony wants me to see a therapist, and I was like uh, yeah _no_. So for the time being, he's making me call and talk to him and Clint every single day. I'm taking those pills, too, and Caterina's bringing me outside every day and to lots of social gatherings. She told our teachers about my mental condition, and they've lightened up on the workload for the time being.

I haven't seen Daken in two weeks, and I'm not so sure that's a good thing. Although I've finally decided that it's a good idea to cut him out of my life, I need closure with him. He'll show up one day, I'm sure of it.

April 14th

A surprise visitor showed up on my doorstep this morning - Natasha Romanoff.  
She just stood in the hallway, glaring at me with her arms crossed over her chest. Tasha was still in her full Black Widow outfit, too, which made it that much more intimidating. I felt so young and small, it made me want to melt into the floor.

"Before you say 'I told you so'-" I began, but she held up a hand to shush me.

"I'm here to apologize."

I scrunched up my eyebrows. "Did Tony put you up to this?"

She shook her hair out of her eyes. "No. You think I'd take orders from him?"

"Fair point. Come on in."

It's a Sunday, so I don't have classes. Caterina was at church when Natasha arrived, but I was sticking around the apartment, painting on my wall. I washed the paint off my hands as Natasha wandered around the apartment, looking things over.

"This place is a mess," she said.

"Yeah, we haven't really been concentrating on cleaning much," I grimaced, embarrassed. "We've been spending a lot of time outdoors."

"Is the fresh air helping?"

"Well, we're kind of in the middle of a huge city, it's not really very fresh . . ." she glared at me sternly. "But yeah. I guess."

"I heard about what happened."

"'Course you did. Clint gossips worse than an old woman."

"Actually, no," she shook her head. "Clint and Tony have both been keeping their mouths shut. I only found out because I _asked_ them about it - they won't talk otherwise."

"How come?" I began cleaning the paint off my nails.

"They don't want Steve to find out."

I fumbled with the nail brush, nearly dropping it.

"And why is that?" I asked, avoiding her harsh gaze.

"Because then he'll feel guilty and go all angsty on them. Steve has a habit of feeling guilty about _everything_"

"Well, it's kind of his fault," I said through my clenched teeth, scrubbing the nail brush against my fingers roughly, turning the skin red and raw. "He's the one who pushed me too far. Maybe he deserves to feel guilty."

Natasha sighed. "You don't really believe that."

My shoulders slumped. "You're right, I don't. I just . . ."

"Look, Sam, I came here for two reasons. The first is to apologize, because guess what? I'm sorry I was so hard on you. You were right: it was your decision, and although I didn't like it, I didn't have to be so harsh. I was shoving my own views down your throat."

I rinsed off my hands, and dried them with a towel as she went on. "I'm also here to tell you that if you want to come back - you can. I won't try and stop you. You deserve that spot on the team, and if you want to return, then fine. We've really missed out on having Masquerade running around, causing a panic."

"Thanks, Tasha," I smiled gently. "That means a lot, coming from you. Well - not the running around part. But the 'You can come back' part. And the apology bit."

"Yeah, and I won't even say I told you so," she smiled back nervously, as if a smile was unfamiliar to her.

There was an awkward pause, that I had to break. "Look, it's nice of you and all. But I still don't think I'm going to return," I winced at my own words. "I'm going to start over with my life in Rome. Try to do it right this time."

She flopped on my bed. "Damn."

"Wait, you actually _want_ me to come back?!"

"Sure," she smiled cryptically.

Tasha's going to stay over tonight, and the leave sometime tomorrow. She's here on S.H.I.E.L.D business, of course - what else? But it was entirely her idea to come visit me, and I'm grateful for it.

Already, I'm feeling better. Just the fact that I had a normal conversation with Tasha should prove it. We're not fighting anymore - _thank God_.

April 21st

I had that last dreaded meeting with Daken last night. It didn't go very well, I think.

Actually, it didn't go well at all.

But it's all over now. Finally - officially. I won't ever have to see him again.

I had gone for a walk around the city, to have some time to myself, and I stopped at the top of the Spanish Steps to look out over Rome. When you glance across the rooftops, you can see so many church steeples that you can't even count them all. It's astonishing. And all the roofs are tiled the same color, and you can watch the mopeds and smart cars zipping along through the streets. But it's hard to even catch a glimpse of the streets, since they're so narrow.

I remember - I was staring down at the fountain at the bottom of the steps, tourist-watching. A man came up to the woman beside me, and gave her a rose. He handed one to a little girl, as well, bowing before her.

"And one for you, miss," he said in stilted English, swooping towards me with a bright red rose held out in his hand.

"Uh - no thanks," I said politely, smiling at him. He pressed on, trying to give it to me - for free, surprisingly enough, I guess he was just a nice man trying to do a nice thing - but I shook my head, turning away from him. He sighed in defeat, and skittered away to give a rose to a young American girl standing a few feet away.

A minute or two later, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I shook my head as they shoved a red rose in my face, but then they spoke, and the voice made my blood run cold. "A beautiful rose for a beautiful girl, Sam. You should've taken it."

I whipped around to see Daken standing there, all 5'9 of him - a full 5 inches shorter than Steve. I noticed for the first time how much slimmer Daken was compared to Steve, too - less built and less muscular; not as broad across the shoulders and chest. They had the same blue eyes, too . . . but Daken's were heartless, powerful, and unstoppable, while Steve's would never be anything even remotely like that.

Daken had me trapped against the rail overlooking the Spanish Steps, and as he forced the rose into my hand, he leaned down to kiss me. But his mouth was only on mine for a second before I pushed him off and turned my head to the side.

"Sam-" he tried again, but I snapped my face to the other side so he only grazed my cheek. Daken glared, stepping back and giving me space.

"We need to talk," I said in as non-aggressive of a tone as I could manage.

"You don't say," he grumbled, grabbing me roughly by the elbow and dragging me down the steps. He was pinching me and I winced, but I didn't say anything about my discomfort as he led me down a street and we turned into a building.

He pulled me along, stumbling through the downstairs hallway, until we came into the outdoor courtyard. A lot of apartments had tiny outdoor courtyards in the centre of their buildings; when you looked straight up, you could see laundry lines criss-crossing through the space above you and plants sitting on open windowsills.

"Where the hell have you been the past few weeks?" he snapped, throwing me down on a bench; I took my time answering, trying to straighten out my clothes and massage my elbow.

"At school, leading a normal life. What about you? What happened with your father?"

Daken's nostrils flared, and he stepped closer to me in a bit of an aggressive manner. "This," he said simply, pulling up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt. His entire lower arms were covered in bandages, all the way from the wrist up to the crook of the elbow.

"He cut out one of my claws, from each hand," Daken's voice was seething with anger, "and then he left me unconscious on the street."

I knew what my reaction should've been: he wanted me to say I was sorry, maybe apologize for not sticking around to help, swear we had to get vengeance on his father. But I was done playing the perfect girlfriend - I was done playing girlfriend, period - so I kept my mouth shut and didn't say anything.

Daken tried to kiss me again, but I skittered away from him on the bench. He eyed me warily, and then began pacing around the courtyard, between the leafy plants.

"Daken, it's . . . it's over," I said, not quite knowing how to break it to him gently - and not exactly wanting to, either.

"You mean the Rampage thing?" he turned swiftly towards me. "Sam, I thought it was going well, but if that's what you want . . ."

"No, I mean - us. We're done, and it'd be best if we never met up again," I bit my lip.

Daken's eyes narrowed. "What, does this have something to do with my father? He won't attack you, Sam, he doesn't even want to kill _me_-"

"No, Daken, it has nothing to do with him," I snapped. "It has to do with your criminal activity, and your abusiveness, and your tendency to be a murderous young man!" I stood up, my voce flaring in anger.

"I can change, Sam," he deflated, his shoulders sinking. "I'll change."

I scrunched up my eyebrows for a few moments, looking him over. "No you won't," I finally said, a dead tone in my voice.

I turned to leave, but Daken leapt forward and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. I lashed out violently, hair covering my face as I kicked him and pushed myself away.

"Sam, stop," Daken tried to say calmingly, and I began to feel his emotion-manipulation power come over me, like a blanket. I struggled to fight it off; keep my anger. It was the only thing keeping me standing right now. _Think of Tony. Think of Clint. Think of Steve_. Try to act like Natasha - she always seemed to have this sort of confrontation under control.

"We can talk about this," Daken held his hands up, backing away. "I love you, Sam-"

"Well, I hate you," I spat, shaking my blonde hair off my face. Daken looked completely taken aback. "I hate you, I hate you, I despise you," I went on.

"I thought we were in this together, Sam," Daken snarled, becoming angry, just like me. "What reason have I given you to hate me?"

I laughed then, and it was cold and heartless. "What reason? What _reason?_ Well, let's start with how you manipulated my emotions, huh?" I gritted my teeth together. "You played me. And then you lied to me, made it seem like it would be a good idea to become a criminal," I spat. "You dragged me into killing and drugs and smoking and the underground world of villains, because you were using me again," I scratched ferociously at a spot on my arm, but never took my eyes off Daken. "You used me for my powers, and because of all the things you made me do, I developed fucking depression. I never even liked you, Daken, it was always just your stupid mutant power."

I kicked the ground, and to my surprise, he stayed quiet. "In the beginning, I thought I was just using you as a rebound, as a decoy - but you were always the one using me. You raped me, Daken-"

"I did not," he stepped forward. "You can accuse me of those other things, but not rape. I had your consent."

"Only because you took advantage of me when I was at my lowest - and I was at my lowest because you manipulated me!" I shouted into his face. "You claim I'm just like you, Daken, but only because you made me. I dated fucking CAPTAIN AMERICA before you came along, you hear that? He's a man that's pretty damn tough to get over, and I thought you could be my decoy, but no, Daken, you dragged me into being Rampage. So yes, I fucking hate you, and I have every right to."

"I thought you were like me, Sam," his eyes were dark; dangerous.

"Only because I was trying to distance myself from Cap," I seethed.

Daken leaned back, examining my face. "You remember when I first found out you had powers? You remember what you said to me?" He went on without waiting for my response. "You told me that you didn't _want_ your powers. And I can give that to you, Sam, I can take them away, and then I'll leave you. Because you are a fucking whore, and you don't deserve anything like the powers you've got. You can't use them properly for good, and you can't even use them for bad."

"I am _not_ a whore!" I shouted, and then reared my fist back and brought it flying across his face. Daken stumbled back a few steps, a grunt of effort slipping out of his mouth.

"Hit me again, Sam," he grinned, a sinister look in his eye. I did as he said, though, and punched him right across the jaw this time. Daken stumbled one step; I hit him once more. Another step back. Another punch to the face.

"You like that?" he asked. "You feel satisfaction?" I hit him in the mouth. "See, we're not as different as you claim. Maybe I did make you tougher, 'cause I'm pretty damn sure you wouldn't have done that when we first met."

That stopped me in my tracks, and I didn't even have enough sense to react when he punched _me_ in the face.

I fell straight to the ground, unable to stand the sheer force of it. Blood welled up in my mouth, and through it, I mumbled a "Go to hell."

"Now, look what you made me do," he spoke in an overly-sweet and sarcastic voice. "Come on. I'm offering you no more powers, remember? Just get up," he kicked me in the side, and I scrambled to my feet.

"'I moved here for a normal life'," he mimicked me, and the phrase I had probably uttered countless times. "Well, you've gotten rid of me, Sam. Now the only thing left in your way is your powers."

Daken began to circle me. "You worthless piece of shit, you don't deserve them, so I guess it's a good thing I'm taking them away." I spat the blood in my mouth into his face; he wiped it off calmly.

"You can't do that," I narrowed my eyes. "They're inseparable from my body by now."

"That's the beauty of psychology," he laughed harshly, but didn't explain himself; just kept on talking. "You're useless, Sam. Stuck in the middle between good and bad. Is that why your precious Captain America dumped you on your ass? Because he couldn't stand your whining?"

"You leave him out of this," I said darkly, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"Oh, found a week spot, have I?" Daken grinned. "Did Cap realize what a psycho you are? Is that why he left you?"

"I'm not a psycho, you hypocrite."

"Poor Sammy had it all, until her boyfriend left her because she was so damaged on the inside," Daken pretended to pout. "You say you had depression, Sam? You should've killed yourself, then. Surely you had suicidal thoughts. And I guarantee the world would've been a better place without you."

That was just low. "Shut up! Just stop it!" I yelled, covering my ears with my hands.

Daken punched me again, and I fell to the ground once more. "You don't want to be with me, sweetie, I'll make sure no one wants to be with you," he smiled, bashing my head into the pavement. I screamed, flailing at him but missing.

"You're useless, Sam. A whore. And let's face it: you never loved me, and Captain America probably never loved you."

I sobbed dryly, air coming out of my throat like vomit but no tears appearing.

"Stop," I cried weakly. "Leave - leave him out of this."

"Have I broken you yet, Sam?" Daken asked in mock concern. "Why, I think I have. You're not very strong, mentally."

Suddenly, he stabbed me with something in the arm, and I turned in horror to see him injecting something - through a needle - into my bloodstream. I screamed, remembering the last time I had been stabbed with a needle - it had been my father, injecting me with the serum that gave me my powers.

"Say goodbye to your powers, Sam," Daken held me in a vice-grip so I couldn't squirm or dislodge the needle. "I'm sorry things had to end so badly between us."

"Rot in hell!" I shouted - or maybe I didn't. I felt woozy, and the things around me were starting to change colors. Daken pulled the needle out, throwing it to the ground and smashing it.

"You're welcome, baby," he said. "For fulfilling your dream of being normal. From now on, I can personally guarantee you won't be touched by any criminal in Rome. Your life in the underground is officially over."

I sat up, holding my head and moaning. Daken kicked me in the stomach, and I doubled over, coughing as he made his final exit.

I can't explain much of what happened next. I made it home, somehow - vomited all over the hallway outside our door. Caterina took care of me; called Tony.

But I didn't notice at the time. I was being subject to all sorts of hallucinations - fears becoming reality. Of course, at the time, I didn't _realize_ they were hallucinations. I'm still not entirely sure. But my dad was there, and the Mandarin was there, and Steve was there. Steve's part was the worst - he kept telling me, over and over again, that everything Daken said about me was true. _Steve_. Betraying me.

At least Daken's gone now.

April 24th

That same vision of Steve has been plaguing my nightmares. And I don't know what it was that Daken injected me with, but I don't think it's quite left my system yet.

And nevermind what it was - I can't use my powers anymore.

I feel like someone's stolen my own baby from me - while it was still in the womb. Now that my powers are gone . . . I miss them.

Caterina convinced me to send blood samples to Bruce, all the way back in New York City. He's going to investigate whatever it was Daken shot into my system.

I'm recovering from the fight with him, though, thank God. Wasn't that bad, actually.

The depression drugs, in the meantime, are probably helping my mind frame, but at least I know I'm finally clear. No more Daken - and no more Roman criminals. I'm clean.

April 30th

HEAT. Got the blood results back from Bruce - Daken injected me with the liquid form of that drug he was addicted to. HEAT.

That's why I kept seeing all my fears, over and over again. Why Steve told me he despised me. It's only in my nightmares because it scared me so badly. But my system is clean now, and the HEAT is finally gone. Daken must've been carrying it around because he's an addicted - and it was in the needle because it was in the liquid form he had been experimenting with. And then he got the idea to stab me with it . . .

HEAT can't stop my powers, that's the thing. So it's something else. And I finally think I understand what Daken meant by "That's the beauty of psychology". He tricked me into thinking I had no powers - he broke me. So basically, he's put up a _mental_ block.

And no matter what therapy Caterina or Tony or even I try to put myself through, I can't break through it. I'm stuck.

Maybe if Steve talked to me . . .

Because even after all this time - even after everything that's happened - he still won't call me. Maybe Tasha's right, and no one's telling him so they can spare him a guilty conscience.

I don't care. I still need him.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, guys. Thanks for all your feedback last chapter :D hopefully this one made sense! Anyway, thanks for sticking around, everyone - one chapter left and then it's back to updating Silver Smoke (with Sam's reunion with Steve, none the less!) I hope you're all excited as I am :)**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter - nice to know you're all still around :) I unfortunately still can't respond to reviews, but I am reading everything and I honestly am so thankful for all the wonderful words. It means the world to me, and thanks to the reviewers of last chapter:_ Selvet, clarinetgirl628, GoForTehGig, Guest _(who I assume is a regular reviewer - but they didn't sign in, and I don't know who it was!), _roxxirox, jaa162, erica . phoenix 16, cucumbersrockmysocks, _and _brandibuckeye! _Thank you all so much :)**

**Sorry updates are a bit hectic right now - school just started back up. I'm trying to get a schedule worked out. In the meantime, please leave a review, telling me what you thought of this chapter - and READERS ASSEMBLE!**


	10. May

**MAY**

May 1st

Okay. Start of a new month. I am _officially_ going to get better now. I can put my past behind me. Now I can concentrate on getting my life back on track.

I think . . . I don't feel as depressed anymore. Caterina constantly surrounds me with happy people, organizes outings with my friends, and makes sure I'm eating right - all under Tony's orders, of course. I wonder if she's getting paid.

May 3rd

Exercise! I'm starting to fall back in love with exercise, and trying to stay healthy that way. It boosts my mood, too, which can't be a bad thing.

I'm going to the gym every day now. It's not a very nice gym, admittedly, but it works. And I've hired a personal trainer - I want to do kickboxing. Get back into shape. Although I'm not returning to be an Avenger, since I no longer have powers, I should probably be concentrating on my hand-to-hand combat. Y'know, just in case.

May 3rd

I've quit smoking. I always knew it was bad; just never actually got around to stopping it. I can't even remember how it _started_, but I regret it almost more than I regret ever meeting Daken. Although I didn't smoke for long, it's making it difficult to get back into shape right away, and it's adding to my depression. Plus, it freaking _stinks_.

I remember when I first moved here, and I found the smoke of Caterina's cigarettes to be revolting. God, it's just so bad for you.

Anyway, I'm on one of those retarded "plans" to stop. I've seen a doctor and everything, too. If I can't get rid of my depression - or my memories - at least I'll get rid of my smoking habit.

May 7th

School is going amazingly well, thank God. My marks have gone way up again, and I'm enjoying it once more. I'm enjoying _everything_ once more. My energy has finally come back.

I think it helps that in Rome, no one cares who you are. They don't care what you look like - I don't feel pressured to dress up for every day. Besides, I hardly know anyone, so who gives a damn what I say or think or act like?

I'm trying to be nicer now, though. Trying to act like Old Sam. That punch to Tony's face - and Daken's comment that he'd made me more violent - really were wake-up calls. I've taken to using my words, but still trying to be less nasty. Besides, another pro of the kickboxing is that if I ever feel the need to punch something . . . I can hit the punching bag.

May 8th

Caterina got me a cat! A little tiny furry kitten, with grey, black and white stripes. It's the cutest little thing I've ever seen, although it makes me miss my cat back at home - Trooper. The one that Thor adopted.

I named my little kitten Batman. Don't judge, okay? She just looks like a Batman (even though it's a she and all). It probably has something to do with the fact that two nights ago, I had a Batman movie marathon - I watched Christopher Nolan's entire trilogy with two of my English-speaking friends. Right after watching it, I called Tony and told him I wanted a Batmobile. He said no.

Batman's a fictional superhero. After all the hype that _real_ superheroes have caused, obviously Hollywood jumped on the boat and decided to make _fake_ superhero movies. But I love Batman; he's the greatest. He's actually the one that inspired me to go to the gym - to get fit again. His struggles are so difficult, his movies so dark; it's a nice escape for me, while still reminding me who I used to be.

So, anyway. The kitten. Caterina calls her Pipistrello, which is Italian for "bat", and I'm not going to stop her. It's cute; sounds better than Batman, at least. Caterina doesn't really like cats, but she's putting up with it - says she bought it for me because she read somewhere online that taking care of pets makes you feel better when you have depression. And let me tell you, playing with this tiny kitten and having her sleep on my bed certainly does make me feel better. Just hearing her purr lifts my heart a bit, each time.

May 12th

I babysat some kids last night - the children of a co-worker of mine at the tourism office. Yes, I'm still doing that. It pays pretty well; forces me to go outside and surround myself with people.

Anyway - the kids. They were Italian, and there were three of them. The oldest was 9, a boy by the name of Orlando; his brother 7, named Nicoli. They had a younger sister, too, Alessia - she's 6.

After their mother and father gave me all the basic babysitting instructions - what they could and couldn't eat, when bedtime was, how much TV they were allowed to watch, etc., I said goodbye to them. The parents were going on a dinner date and then to a show, so they expected to be out late.

I headed down the staircase to the basement, where I could hear the kids playing and yelling at each other.

"BAM! I just killed you with my light beams!" Nicoli shouted - I had met these kids a long time ago, back when I babysat them before Daken came around.

"Impossible!" Orlando roared in a fake deep voice. "I am Thor, god of thunder! You are no match for my hammer!"

I got downstairs just in time to see Orlando throw a hammer at Nicoli. I gasped, leaping forwards as it missed the little boy and fell to the floor. Scooping it up, I turned to Orlando and gave him a stern look.

"You do not throw _hammers_ at your brother!" I scolded. "This is not a toy! You could seriously hurt him." Behind me, Nicoli stuck his tongue out Orlando.

"Aww," the older boy pouted. "Fine. In that case, I'll be the Hulk. HULK SMASH!" he ran across the room, grabbing a box of pencils from a table and throwing it to the floor.

It was then that my brain registered what he had said. _"I am Thor, god of thunder!",_ and_ "Hulk smash!"_

"What are you guys playing?" I asked in shock as Orlando continued running around the room, knocking things off tables. Nicoli ignored me, and I noticed in surprise that he was wearing a plastic Iron Man helmet as he went around shooting "light rays" out of his hands at his brother.

"The Avengers!" a little female voice chirped, and I turned to find Alessia hiding behind the couch, a huge smile plastered on her face. "It's our new favorite game of pretend!"  
I stared at the kids in shock as they ran around me, screaming at each other. I mean, I knew the Avengers had been popular over in the states, but I hadn't thought they were so influential that kids were playing Avengers make-believe games - especially in Italy!

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!" Nicoli shouted, standing on the couch with his Iron Man mask still on. Orlando threw the television remote across the room, still bellowing. His role in the game was the Hulk and, before I took away his hammer, Thor.

Little Alessia ran around on her short little legs, trying to readjust a crappy green dollar-store masquerade mask. I'm still surprised that I, measly little Samantha Silverman, had had so much of an impact on the world that a random little girl in Italy was dressing up as Masquerade - even though the super-heroine hadn't been sighted since Loki's attack. She seemed to enjoy pretending to be me - and that touched my heart.

I watched them play for about half an hour, but then stepped in. "Wait, wait, wait," I held up my hands just as Nicoli shot more "light beams" at Orlando. "You guys are doing it all wrong."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Orlando scrunched up his nose, looking at me in disgust.

"The Avengers don't fight each _other_," I stressed. Well, okay, so that was a lie - Tony and Steve had lots of verbal battles - but they never tried to kill and blow each other up like the kids seemed to think.

"You need a supervillain," I smiled at them, getting down on my knees so that I could be at their eye level. "Ever heard of Loki?"

All three kids nodded their heads solemnly. Who knew a six-year-old could look solemn?

"Why don't I pretend to be Loki," I said, not actually believeing that I was doing this, "and you all team up as the Avengers and defeat me?"

They looked at each other dubiously, but then smiles split across their faces. "Yeah!" they cried, jumping around. I handed Orlando his hammer back (the Avengers couldn't fight Loki without his brother Thor present!), after making him promise not to hit anyone or throw it.

We then spent the next two hours playing The Avengers Try To Take Down Loki And His Fortress Of Couch Pillows, While Loki Plans How Best To Get The Avengers To Do Their Schoolwork. It was odd for me, to watch the "Avengers" fight over such trivial things, while in reality I know all the real heroes and I had actually fought for something as grave as the fate of the world, with my life on the line.

I hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

And somehow, I felt closer to my fellow Avengers than I ever had since moving to Rome.

May 15th

Painted on my wall again, for the first time in a while. It actually made me feel really good - I think I'll start doing it more often.

Had to take Batman for shots today. She wasn't too happy about that, and she pissed on Caterina's pillow to show me how distressed she was.

Yeah, Caterina's incredibly annoyed and probably regretting her decision to buy me Batman.

May 17th

Talked to Thor today. It was a . . . weird conversation. I mean, it started out normal enough - I told him about Batman, and he told me (for the third or fourth time) about Jane and Lady Darcy. Thor also let me know that my old cat Trooper was doing quite well, and I'm glad to hear that.

Then Thor ate a bar of soap, although when he was actually _eating_ it, I didn't realize what it was - I was too busy asking him if I could talk to Steve. I knew what the answer was - no, just like always - but it didn't hurt to ask. Besides, even if he did say yes . . . I wouldn't know what to say.

Thor inquired to Tony as to what he was eating, and he asked Steve if he would speak to me . . . but then some kind of kerfuffle, or a fight of some sort, ensued. And thus, Thor hung up on me, or forgot I was on the phone, or something. Potentially something happened - maybe someone attacked them, or there was an emergency, but I doubted it. No matter what it was, our conversation ended.

May 18th

Today, it was Tony who called. He says he's coming for a visit - God, I'm excited. Now that I'm not a mess and I'm not so out-of-it that I'll punch him in the face, maybe we can go back to that weird father-daughter relationship we had. I miss him more than I would ever admit, and now that I'm fully feeling better, I can't wait to see him.

Yeah, did I mention? I'm feeling 100 per cent again. Thank God - it took long enough.  
Now I'm off to play with Batman, then study for school. I'm thinking that tomorrow, before Tony gets here, I'll go out and buy a bunch of new paint and I'll completely re-do my wall.

I'll leave the sketch of the Captain America shield, of course - the one that was the first thing I ever did on the wall. Through all this insanity . . . it's been the only constant thing in my life.

Ironic, isn't it? Since the actual Captain America . . . Well. He's never talking to me again.

* * *

**Author's Note: And voilà! The conclusion. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, and I certainly hope you enjoyed it :) I had fun writing it! In a few days, I'll post the next chapter of Silver Smoke (Cap and Sam's reunion!) and get that story back on track :D I hope you're all as excited as I am!**

**One last thank you to the wonderful reviewers: the feedback on the last chapter was amazing. Thank you all so, so much :) _brandibuckeye, Selvet, Comiccrazygothgirl, erica . phoenix 16, Laurafxox, Raspberry Heaven, GoForTehGig, scott6130, telekinetic in the_ _usa, _and _clarinetgirl628!_**

**Thanks again to everyone for reading! :D please leave one last review, telling me your overall thoughts of this story. Thanks again, hope you enjoyed - and READERS ASSEMBLE!**

**- Lexi**


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